A Flame Forever Burning
by Eleutherya
Summary: Two years ago she was nearly taken from him. The repercussions may bring Asgard to its ruin as the dreams of the Queen foretell of a coming twilight. . . A sequel to Shadow Over Us, and takes place in between an up-coming story: Promises.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

She was lost.

Lost in thought. Lost in direction. Lost in despair.

It was not often that she allowed it.

Frigga stood on the balcony, arms drawn close as she looked out over the city of Asgard. Her home. Her sanctuary. Her refuge from the horrors of the Nine Realms. This city, with its golden surfaces reflecting the kaleidoscopic lights of the sky above. With its history and power and splendor, a shining beacon of hope and strength. She looked up at the dark sky; stars and constellations glowed in the heavens, unchanged and unhurried in their eternal dance. They at least never changed, no matter what events were shaping the future of this world. The city below whispered with the weary sounds of night.

So quiet. So peaceful. It should have soothed her soul, comforted her, wrapped her spirit in its familiar embrace. But tonight, there was no comfort to be found.

Her Second Eye had shown her things this night. Things she was desperately trying to forget.

She became aware of a noise on the terrace behind her; a soft sound. A comforting sound. Familiar footsteps on the flagged stone pavement. A feeling of such power and weight that it left no doubt in her mind as to who it belonged to.

Odin stepped up to her side and gently put his arm around her. Together they looked out over the city, saying nothing for a long while. There was no need to say anything. Her gifts were such that questions were usually worthless. Over the long centuries they had been married, her husband had come to allow her to speak in her own time, in her own way, revealing only enough to relieve her mind but not abuse her gift. For now, he would simply _be_; it was all she needed in that moment.

But she could not stay silent forever. And, led by some impulse she could not understand, she heard herself whisper to the darkness.

"The twilight is deepening."

Odin looked down on her with a knowing gaze, nodding slowly.

"It has been so for hundreds of years, Frigga," he replied gently. She shook her head.

"This time is different. It is closer than ever before." She shuddered, clutching his hand. "It frightens me." Odin held her closer.

"The Eye has been mistaken before," he reminded her. "We both know that not all things that you see will come to pass. They are no more than scattered pieces, broken events. You cannot know how they all will come together."

"Odin, those scattered pieces are drawing closer together," Frigga murmured. "No longer vague and distant, they are becoming clearer with each night that passes."

The Alfather gazed at his wife. The question was unspoken, but she knew what he would ask. She sighed.

"I cannot reveal all," she began, "but I have seen . . . terrible things. Images of fear, of pain, of danger – for our children and all of Asgard."

"Is it connected to . . . the loss of our grandchild?" Odin asked gently.

"Perhaps," Frigga confessed, blinking back tears. "Or perhaps not. I don't know. I have seen both of them, Sigyn and Loki, but . . . nothing is clear. Not yet."

"Frigga," Odin said, turning her to face him, "tell me. What have you seen?"

She hesitated. How much could she say? What should she tell him – her secret fears, her terrifying nightmares? How much she feared for the safety of her sons and daughter, for all of Asgard? The feeling of disaster that was threatening to smother her every sunset? Never before had she so badly wanted to reveal all.

_How much could she say?_

"I have seen the end of time. I have seen the greatest threat that Asgard has ever faced. A great evil is coming . . . one that I fear will be the end of us all."


	2. Embers

**Ok, first, let me start off by saying thank you to those of you who have left your reviews for my stories; I love reading what you guys have to say! Keep those up; it's the only way I can improve. Now, let me give you a short preview. This particular story takes place in between another Fan Fiction I've got coming up, called Promises. I hope to have it completed by the time this story is finished, so keep your eyes open for it! BIG thanks to my friend Chimaera Chameleon for help with both editing and helping with the story line! Readers take note: Chimaera Chameleon and I are writing our Fanfics collaboratively, so check out her up-coming stories as well. Enjoy this next installement of A Flame Forever Burning!**

EMBERS

Her footsteps were the only sound to be heard.

The palace was unusually quiet, almost subdued, even for such a late hour as this. Every window was dark, a few scattered torches and the twilight sky the only light casting shadows across the marble floors. Rooms and archways that would be airy and full of the glow of day seemed oppressive and abandoned. No one in their right mind would wander the palace corridors after dark; it was too lonely, too still, for anyone to wish to walk these halls alone. Only those who wished for peace, for solitude, would venture out at midnight.

Sif was no such person. She did not just walk the palace for her enjoyment. She had a task to perform.

It was the same task every night, had _been_ the same each sunset for months now. No one had asked her to do this; some had even tried to persuade her to give it up, leave things be just as they were. But Sif had always been of the stubborn disposition. And she knew she would not sleep peacefully through another night knowing she had abandoned a dear friend of hers.

Up ahead, in the shadowy recesses of the northwest corridor, a black silhouette caught her eye. It moved so quietly, so slowly that for a moment Sif thought she had simply imagined it. But when a faint sob reached her ears she knew she had not been mistaken. She didn't move forward right away; as she did every night, she simply watched and waited. Despite her concerns, she knew she must respect her friend's wishes to be alone for a time.

So she followed from a distance, waiting for the right moment to come forward.

After several minutes of quietly following in the other's footsteps, careful not to be seen or heard, Sif began to notice that their surroundings were becoming very familiar. As a warrior she had been down this corridor many times, either with Thor or just for her own amusement. But her friend . . . she never had reason to venture down these steps.

Would a grieving mother's sleepless wanderings _really_ take her to a place like _this?_

Suddenly, up ahead, the figure came to a halt. Sif stood motionless, hidden in the shadows, breathlessly waiting to see what was happening. The silhouette had paused by a set of huge bronze double-doors; though Sif could not see the shrouded face, she could tell by the other's posturing that she was studying the lock, as if she was puzzled by it. But when a slender hand reached out to touch the handle, Sif let out an involuntary gasp of alarm.

The figure froze, then half-turned to look over her shoulder.

"I know you are there," a soft voice called out. Sif took a deep breath and stepped out of hiding.

"What are you doing here, Sigyn?" she asked, forcing herself to speak calmly. But the other ignored her question.

"Why are _you_ following me?" Sigyn whispered. Sif took a deep breath and moved closer.

"You already know the answer," she countered. "Seeking you."

"Why?"

Sif was incredulous. _Do you truly not know? After all this time and after all of the times our paths have crossed?_

"I have explained this to you before, Sigyn," she said aloud. "I think it unwise for you to wander these corridors alone."

A sad smile . . . and a threat of tears.

"There are none who would understand."

_Yes, I've noticed. But what else could one expect from marrying someone like him? Why does he allow you to suffer alone? Why doesn't he DO something?_

She could not say any of these things aloud. She knew that Sigyn loved Loki . . . more than anyone else in Asgard. Why, she would never understand. What did she see in him? How could she still possibly love someone who had abandoned her in the greatest tragedy this young woman had ever faced? He was too wrapped up in his own grief and loss that he wouldn't see how much his wife suffered.

Insufferable, stubborn man!

"Sigyn, you cannot continue to dwell on that," she pointed out. "The past is the past. You must let it go." Even to her own ears it sounded harsh. She didn't mean it to be.

"I only wish I could," the other whispered. "You will never know what it is like."

"All of us have, at one time or another, lost someone we loved, someone we cared about. But there comes a time when you simply must stop grieving and continue to live."

"This isn't war, Sif!" Sigyn cried, turning to face her. "_I've lost my child!_"

"I know this," Sif answered gently. "But . . . how long must you grieve? How long must you continue to dwell in the past? It happened months ago. It is time to move on."

"What would you have me do?" Sigyn demanded. "Pretend it never happened? Continue with my life as if I had never lost her? You will never know what it means to lose your child! All you think of is battle and war and glory and honor! You care for nothing else!"

Sif took a step back, a little stung by her friend's harsh words.

"I did not mean it like that," she protested. "I only meant – "

"I want no more of your lies, Sif! Just _leave me be!_"

Her shout shattered the serenity of their surroundings, echoing harshly down the hall. It sounded as if a chorus of angry voices had risen out of the stones themselves, condemning the Warrior Sif for her insensitive words. And brave though she was, Sif could not help but watch with apprehension as a fire flashed in front of Sigyn's eyes.

Sigyn was a kind-hearted, gentle woman. A healer. A friend. A comfort for those around her. She always understood the intentions behind speech, even if the words themselves lacked eloquence. So it was with surprise that Sif noticed the anger in Sigyn's eyes, saw her hands clench into fists.

She couldn't help but be afraid.

Almost as quickly as it came, Sigyn's anger left her. The fire died out of her eyes, extinguished by the tears that were flooding out of her soul.

"I'm sorry, Sif," she whispered. "I didn't mean that. I know you meant well, but I can't –" Her words hung unfinished in the empty air, and she buried her face in her hands and turned away.

Sif didn't speak for a while, giving her friend time to gather herself. It was true, however; Sif had never understood the personal pain of losing your own flesh and blood. She had watched comrades be hewn down before her eyes time and again in war. But war always brought glory and victory to the dead.

There was no glory in an innocent child's death.

She wrapped her arm around Sigyn and drew her into a friend's embrace, letting her bury her tears in her shoulder. It was a mercy there was no one else there to observe this scene; Sigyn had endured too much heartbreak and ridicule as it was. Questions and doubts hovered over her no matter where she walked. In this last year since her marriage, the people of Asgard had begun to wonder why Sigyn would join with Loki in the first place. There was a particularly vicious rumor circulating among the court that she had been bewitched, tricked into binding herself to the God of Mischief. There must have been a reason Loki had done it. It could not have been because he _loved_ her.

Sif was beginning to believe it herself. After all, here she was, comforting Sigyn in her grief, when it should be _Loki_ in her place. _Loki_ should have searched her out. _Loki_ should tell her to put her sorrow behind her.

_Where was he when Sigyn needed him the most?_

After a long time, Sif pulled away and looked Sigyn in the eyes.

"It is late, and you have not slept much." She gave her a small smile. "Warrior or not, I know when weariness has overcome you. Think no more on it tonight, Sigyn. Will you do this for me?" The younger woman took a deep breath and nodded. The smile she returned was a mere shade of her former self.

"Thank you for coming to find me, Sif," she replied. "I don't know why I said what I did, but I am grateful for your concern. There are not many left in Asgard who would do all you have done."

Sif had to swallow the twinge of guilt that rose in her throat. She put her arm around her shoulder instead.

"I will accompany you back to your room," she insisted.

As they walked along, Sif stole a side-ways glance at her friend.

"If I may ask . . . how is your husband handling all of this?" Sigyn's smile became melancholy, and she lowered her eyes to the floor in front of them.

"I . . . have seen little of him lately," she confessed. "We spend very little time together anymore. I have my duties with the healers, and he . . . he disappears for hours at a time, sometimes not returning until after dark." She sighed. "I cannot imagine how much pain he must be in."

Sif shook her head. Even in a time like this, Sigyn's first thoughts were for her husband's pain . . . the husband that had abandoned her to her own suffering.

Sigyn truly was a very rare woman.

They didn't speak again until they arrived back at Sigyn's room. Before she stepped inside, the younger woman turned back to Sif. There was a moment of silence. Then Sigyn whispered, almost too quietly to hear:

"I will try, Sif. I promise." With a small smile, she slipped into the darkened room and closed the door behind her.

Inwardly, Sif breathed a sigh of relief. The Goddess of Fidelity had given her word . . . and she never broke her promises. She need no longer fear for her well-being.

But there was still the matter of her wandering down that corridor. And she never did answer her question as to why she was there . . .

Sif turned away from the door and strode resolutely off further down the hall. Something must be done about this. It was becoming clear that it was no longer safe for Sigyn to be alone at any time. Of course Sif could not be there at every moment of every day, but there was someone who should be. Her stomach clenched with displeasure at the thought of confronting Loki herself; she did not trust the man, nor did she trust herself to focus entirely on Sigyn's plight. But there was someone else who could, someone who would have the patience to speak to Loki and talk some sense into his head.

Thor, however, did not like to be awakened this late.

Sif grinned.

All the more reason to speak to him now.

* * *

"Thor you are _not_. Listening to me!"

"I _am_ listening! But I still do not see why you need concern yourself over this. It has been so for months; why should it be so urgent now?"

Sif growled in frustration and turned away. She was beginning to lose patience with this man. No matter what she said, it didn't seem to be making any difference; Thor simply did not understand the urgency of her errand. She had come here to speak with him almost immediately after leaving Sigyn in her room. Though Thor clearly was irritated at being wakened at such a late hour, he could never stay angry at Sif for long; everyone knew that Lady Sif was not one to worry about trifling matters. So he had listened. But even after she had explained the situation to him, he had not seemed too concerned. So she tried again.

It had been quite dark outside when she came. Now, the sun was already risen over the horizon.

She heard Thor sigh heavily behind her.

"Sif, I do not understand why you are so concerned."

"She is my _friend_, Thor," Sif bit back, feeling a lump in her throat. "Of _course_ I should be concerned."

"Sif, you must allow her to grieve in her own way," Thor answered gently. "And if she prefers to walk through the palace alone, perhaps it is for the best."

"But it was six months ago, Thor!" Sif burst out, turning to face him.

"Losing a child is a very painful experience, Sif."

"Oh, _WHY_ does everyone suppose I do not understand that?! I know it is difficult! But how long must one grieve for the past? Why can she not just move on with her life?"

She realized by the end of her rant that she was shouting at the wall. When she looked over at Thor, he was watching her with an expression close to pity. It made a flush of embarrassment color her cheeks, and she quickly looked down.

"Sigyn is young," Thor began softly. "She does not have the inner strength and discipline that you have acquired from your long years of training. Hardships and trials are not easy for her to overcome."

"She has overcome them in the past," Sif pointed out stiffly. "When Loki was exiled from Asgard, when she followed him to Earth, trying to convince him to come back. It was a fruitless effort, and she knew it. But she put it behind her. She moved on."

"Only because Loki _did_ return. You did not see her before she left Asgard, when she spoke with my mother. You would not have known her for the same woman."

"But still," Sif protested, stubbornly attempting to keep Thor to the point, "I do not think it safe for Sigyn to wander the palace alone after sundown."

"What harm could she possibly do, Sif?"

"Did you not hear me before? She went to the Weapons Vault!"

"There is nothing wrong with that," Thor growled, starting to sound very irritated. "That part of the palace is not restricted. You yourself have gone there many times in the past."

"I know _I_ have," Sif snapped. "But this is _Sigyn_ we are discussing! Has she ever once even been to the Vault? She is a Healer! What business would a Healer have among the armaments contained in there? She paused at the door and was attempting to open it! Why would she do that?"

Thor became quiet for the first time since Sif had arrived . . . and she sighed with relief. Finally, he was beginning to understand. After a few moments, Thor looked up.

"Indeed. Sigyn has never done anything like that before. What, I wonder, would drive her to do so now?" Sif said nothing, and the silence in the room soon grew very grim. "Did you speak to her?"

"Of course. She would give me no explanation as to why she was there, of all places."

"Perhaps she did not feel sure about sharing her reasons with you," Thor mused. "I suppose there is only one whom she _would_."

"Then you will speak to him?" Thor nodded and quickly rose to his feet.

"Yes, and I must do so without delay. Wait a moment for me outside. I will join you shortly."

Sif blinked in surprise. She had not expected him to take action this quickly. But she did as she was told without hesitating. She bowed and shut the door behind her. No sooner had she stepped outside when she heard a voice behind her.

"Good day, Lady Sif!" She turned to see Fandral stride up the corridor towards her, weaving his way around the crowd of people already flooding the passageway.

"We shall see if it will be a good day or not," she muttered under her breath. Fandral gave her a pleasantly confused look.

"And what, pray tell, does that mean?" he asked lightly. Sif shook her head and was about to reply when the door behind her opened. Thor stepped out, armor-clad and cape flowing. The only thing that was missing was Mjolnir, his weapon of choice in battle.

Sif thought he might consider taking it with him.

"Thor, what –"

"My apologies, Fandral, but there is a matter I must discuss with my brother without delay."

"Thor, Loki could be anywhere in the palace . . . anywhere in _Asgard_," Sif protested. "You don't even know where to start looking."

But she was wrong. He knew Loki well, and he knew all of his favorite hiding places. They varied depending on what mood he was in: if he was frightened, if he felt alone, if he was angry. But if he was grieving . . . then there was only one place Loki could be; the one place in the entire palace that his brother could bury his pain and hide from every other living soul.

"I will return." Without waiting for an answer, he turned away and disappeared around the corner, leaving a confused Fandral and a concerned Sif behind.

* * *

To anyone else, searching through the vast Palace Library for one man would have been a nearly impossible task. Room after room, riddled with any number of hiding places, spanning two full stories. It was a baffling maze, where anyone could easily become lost or lose themselves amid all that history. But Thor's steps were purposeful and confident; he had walked through these halls so many times, he had the path memorized. The place he was looking for was on the second floor, in the northeastern corner.

It was Loki's home away from home.

Not five minutes later Thor was standing on the threshold of one of the smaller rooms, far out of the way where few people ever came. Tall twin windows were open, providing a spectacular view of the northern reaches of Asgard. Almost every space was filled with floor-to-ceiling shelves and artifacts from Asgard's history. Thor frowned; books and history never much appealed to him, not having the patience to sit still for more than an hour at a time. He could never understand Loki's fascination with them. But he knew that it was here, more than anywhere else, that his brother felt safe. Thor stepped forward, weaving his way around the shelves and tables towards the back of the room.

And sitting in the far corner, hidden in the shadows away from the warmth and light, Thor found what he was looking for.

He knew Loki heard him; he had made plenty of glib remarks in the past that Thor could make as much noise as a troll. But his head never came up. He was reading quietly with that pensive look on his face that Thor usually associated with a lonely or foul temper. Though his eyes were fixed on the pages in front of him, Thor could tell that he wasn't taking in anything he was reading. Again, an old habit of his, one that manifested itself when he didn't want to be disturbed.

But Thor wasn't having any of it today.

"I would have words with you, brother," he said after a pause.

No reply. Not even a twitch of response.

"_Loki_."

His head finally came up, a rather indifferent expression in his eyes. He stared at Thor for a few moments, then looked back down.

"Not now."

"This cannot wait, brother."

"I'm busy."

"This takes precedence."

"Leave. Me. _Alone_."

"You cannot isolate yourself from the world forever."

Loki slammed the book shut and sprang to his feet.

"Do not test me, Thor! I am in no mood to be bullied by the likes of you." He would have stalked away, to retreat further back in the vast room if Thor had not caught his arm.

"You. Will. Listen."

A deadly pause passed between them, and for one wild moment Thor actually thought his brother would insist and pull away or – worse – turn his magic on him.

But he did neither. He simply stared at Thor with a cold, angry look, jaw shut tight . . . but waiting expectantly.

Thor hesitated, wondering where and how he should begin.

"Loki, I know you prefer to continue hiding –"

"I am _not_ hiding," the other snapped.

"_Hiding_ – from all of us, but there is something you must know."

"About what?" Loki growled, his anger – and grief – becoming an almost palpable wave. "Have you come to offer empty words of consolation? Or perhaps you are here to convince me to forget the death of my daughter?"

"Neither."

"Then what do you want?"

"I am here to speak with you about Sigyn."

Loki froze. His gaze turned to ice, and the arm in Thor's grip suddenly became stiff and motionless.

"What of her?" he demanded coldly.

"She has not been acting like herself."

"Of course she hasn't," Loki sneered sarcastically. "Must I remind you again? She is _grieving!_"

"This goes beyond grief, Loki. She has been behaving . . . very strange. Sif found her wandering the palace corridors alone last night."

"She does that every night," Loki said, almost sounding bored. "How is that strange behavior for a grieving mother?"

"She was found by the Weapons Vault."

Thor watched as the storm slowly faded from his brother's eyes, puzzlement taking the place of anger. His eyes narrowed slightly, and Thor felt his posture ease slightly into thoughtfulness.

"What business did she have there?"

"She would not say. But Sif insists she saw her attempt to open the doors and gain entry."

Loki fell silent, concern nudging the puzzlement aside in his expression. Thor released his brother's arm and waited in expectant silence. Loki was quiet for so long that Thor began to wonder if he was still aware of his presence. He would have given a great deal to know what was going through that mind of his.

Finally, green eyes came back up to look into his own.

"I will speak to her, Thor." He said this so quietly that Thor wasn't sure if he was talking to him or not. But he nodded approvingly.

"See that you do. Sigyn has held to her grief for six long months; it is time she lets go of her grief and moves on. She will listen to you."

Still looking thoughtful, Loki turned his back on him and began walking away.

"Loki."

The God of Mischief stopped, but did not turn back.

"What?"

"Sigyn is not the only one who must let go of the past."

His brother gave him no answer, but after a moment of hesitation, he strode off around the corner and disappeared.


	3. Kindled

KINDLED

How fitting was it that Thor the Thunderer himself was the provocation for the stormy expression on Loki's face as he stalked down the corridor?

He didn't try to hide it. He had something more important on his mind than worrying about the looks he would receive. Besides, it would simply make people get out of his way faster.

And it was certainly working. Those he passed in the corridors were giving him a wide berth, as if they were afraid to get too close to him. He could practically smell their fear . . . and disdain.

He knew what Asgard was saying about him. He could tell by the sidelong looks he received and the whispers he heard whenever he passed by: he didn't truly love Sigyn, never had. It had just been another of his wild, impatient whims. That was why he ignored her now, why he always sought to be alone.

But they were wrong. He cared _deeply_ for his wife; it was simply difficult to break old habits.

He was used to being alone. In some ways he liked it. It was easier for him to think, to plan . . . or brood, which was more often the case. Ever since Sigyn's miscarriage, he had devoted himself to combing through the archives for anything that might give him some clue as to why this had happened. He refused to believe that it was mere chance. But lack of answers and increasing questions simply made his anger and despair worse . . . until he had all but given up. Ordinarily everyone would have just let him be, preferring to stay out of his way, and his sometimes violent temper. Thor was the only one who would never leave him alone. He was always intruding, getting involved in something that was no business of his –

Well, he supposed he couldn't blame him in this matter. Loki had been so wrapped up in trying to fathom why his first-born had died _(been stolen from him)_, that he hadn't even noticed the passage of time. A twinge of guilt twisted his stomach; had it really been six months?

_Perhaps he deserved the displeasure of Asgard . . ._

At least now he could _(start to)_ make amends.

Sigyn would not be difficult to find, not now in the middle of the day. Before long Loki made his way to the Healers House _(he kept forgetting just how many steps there were leading up to it)_. He halted just on the threshold, scanning the room for anyone he recognized. It had been quite some time since he had been here, and even then he had felt awkward and out of place. _(But he always felt like that now, no matter where he went.)_ But awkward or not, he needed to speak with someone.

He hadn't taken more than two steps forward when a tall figure barred his way. He knew those silver eyes and stern face quite well.

"What are you doing here, Loki?"

He couldn't help but smirk.

"It's nice to see you too, Eir."

The Grand Healer, however, was not amused.

"What do you want?" Loki bit back a snide retort. Diplomacy was needed here . . .

"I am looking for Sigyn. Is she here?" Eir watched him for a moment or two, her sharp eyes boring into his. He kept his gaze carefully neutral. He was used to stares like this now, but it wouldn't do to antagonize her further.

Eir could be rather intimidating when she was angry . . .

"Follow me," she said at last, and without waiting for him to reply she turned and began walking down the eastern passage, further into the House.

For a while, neither of them said anything. Eir seemed to be trying to choose her words carefully, and Loki was too busy enjoying her displeasure at his presence. Sometimes causing trouble was just too easy . . .

"I must admit, I am pleased to see you here." Loki looked down at her in surprise. Her face and posture certainly did not communicate pleasure of any sort. He waited for her to continue. "Sigyn has been . . . well, I shall only say she has not been well as of late."

"How so?"

"I am certain I do not know all of the specifics, but I can tell you that her behavior has altered a great deal. She seems . . . distant. She hardly speaks a word to any of us anymore. She may simply just be tired, but it shows in her work as well. Her magic has diminished significantly. It's as if her heart is no longer involved in anything she does anymore." She sighed, and for once she did not appear angry. "I never knew losing a child would affect her this way . . ."

Loki said nothing. He didn't need to. Anything he said now to Eir would simply seem like empty words. He would save the rest of his conversation for his wife.

Eir led him toward the back of the House and out towards one of the vast colonnades that overlooked the city. He remembered this place, where he first realized how much Sigyn meant to him . . .

A lone figure was standing by the balcony, motionless, unheeding of their approach. Eir stopped about twenty paces from her, signing for Loki to do the same.

"Sigyn?" The figure's head turned slightly. At least she was listening to them. "Loki wishes to speak with you."

Sigyn finally turned around to face them . . . and Loki had to catch himself from staring. Despite her otherwise cheerful smile, her appearance was nonetheless shocking. He could hardly believe this was the same Sigyn he had known for so long: pale, transparent skin, lean face and hands, sunken eyes.

How long had she looked like this?

_And why hadn't he noticed before?_

"Hello, Loki." Even her voice sounded tired.

Eir glanced at the pair of them, then retreated back into the House without another word.

"What are you doing here?" Sigyn asked once they were alone.

"I came here to speak with you."

"About what?"

"Thor told me something strange a short time ago."

"Yes?"

"He told me you were found by the Weapons Vault last night."

"Did he?"

"Was he right?"

"Well, he was not there himself, so –"

"Don't evade the question, Sigyn. Was. He. Right?"

Sigyn sighed and closed her eyes. She seemed so frail in that moment, as if just one harsh word or the slightest movement would break her. It was difficult to be stern with a woman like that . . .

"Perhaps. I may have been, but . . . I cannot remember. Half the time I don't know where I go."

Loki closed the distance between them and gripped her shoulders firmly, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"Sigyn, the truth. Have you been there or not?" He felt her shrug slightly.

"I've already told you, Loki. I cannot remember. How can I be more truthful than that?"

"It's still not an answer," Loki insisted.

"But it's the only answer I can give! Loki, you must believe me!"

Loki found himself looking into those bright, earnest eyes of hers, and little by little his frustration trickled out of him. It was difficult not to believe her when she was looking at him like that. In all of the years, all of the centuries he had known her, he had never once known her lie to him. Sometimes he imagined she lied, other times he wanted to _believe_ she was lying. But it had never been true; Sigyn had always been the one thing he could rely on. How could he not believe her now?

Then again, not remembering – however honest an answer it might be – is still an incomplete answer. Clearly, Sigyn could not tell him anymore. He would have to find another way to discover the whole truth.

"I believe you," he replied instead. He let go of her shoulders and found himself holding her small, thin hand. He knew he should say something else to her, but the words wouldn't come. It was always difficult for him to speak what was on his heart when he was around her.

But Sigyn always understood anyway.

Loki forced himself to smile and gently kissed her forehead. Without another word, he let go of her hand and began walking back to the House.

"Loki?" He paused and looked back. She was smiling at him rather sadly. "I've missed you."

He didn't reply . . . but his smile became genuine.

* * *

It was a long, dark, anticipation.

Loki had been lingering out in the corridor for some time now. He had waited until Sigyn had fallen asleep before he quietly got up and slipped outside of their room. For months now she had always gotten up in the dead of night to roam the palace, and Loki anticipated this night would be no different. Despite what others may have thought, he knew about these nightly wanderings; he had never paid much attention to them before, but now his curiosity and concern were piqued, and he had questions that needed answering.

He did feel a little guilty about deceiving Sigyn this way, but he could think of no other way. He had considered every other possible course of action, but nothing else would gain him results. While he had no doubt that Sigyn meant well, a part of him still did not quite believe her.

It was difficult to silence that inner voice. So he had waited for hours, like a patient, watchful hawk.

It was long after dark before he finally saw movement.

Sigyn stepped out slowly, glancing up and down the corridor as if she wanted to avoid being seen. Her eyes passed right over Loki's hiding place without concern. He watched her stand still for a moment and then, as if satisfied there was no one around, she silently closed the door behind her. She stole away down the empty hallway without a sound and disappeared from sight. After waiting only a moment longer, Loki emerged from concealment and began shadowing her at a distance.

He was surprised at the speed she was traveling; at some times Loki had to pick up his pace so as not to lose sight of her. Something, a part of his half-buried conscience maybe, began to worry. All of this seemed out of character for Sigyn; her hurried, careful steps, her wary – almost arrogant – gaze, even the way her right hand twitched impatiently. This was not the Sigyn that _he_ knew.

_"This goes beyond grief . . ."_

He was beginning to see what Thor meant.

Up ahead Sigyn suddenly stopped, stiffening in alarm. Loki ducked into the shadow of a nearby column just as she whirled around. For a long while neither of them moved. Sigyn was staring hard at the (seemingly) abandoned hallway, her dark eyes flicking from side to side cautiously. Loki could only suppose that she sensed someone was following her; he knew he had not made a sound. Almost a full minute went by, and when nothing happened Sigyn relaxed and smiled – a rather odd smile, Loki thought – and continued on her way. Loki let out a silent breath of relief before he followed her.

After ten minutes of creeping along passageways and lurking in shadows, Sigyn slowed her pace and halted beside a pair of heavy, high bronze doors.

The Weapons Vault.

So, Sigyn had lied to him after all. She _had_ been here before; there was no possible way she could have found her way here so quickly if she had not done this before. Hadn't she promised him that she did not remember where she had gone? And wasn't she incapable of breaking her word?

_The Goddess of Fidelity had her limits after all._

Sigyn's full attention was now focused on those huge doors. Just as Sif had described, she seemed to be studying them, observing the hinges and the heavy lock bolting it shut. Loki watched as her hand – her right hand, he noticed, the one that had been twitching before – slowly touched one of the door handles. After a moment's hesitation, her grip tightened and she gave it a hard shove. The door, of course didn't move. It couldn't. The lock was infused with magic, set there by Loki himself long ago. Only those of the royal family or those with special permission were given access to that room. Sigyn would never be able to open it.

But Loki's indifference turned to sharp alarm when he saw her bend down slightly, eyeing the lock closely. A sly smile crept onto her face, and she confidently pressed the palm of her right hand at an emblem just above the handles. A warm, golden radiance glowed around that small hand, and rivers of molten light curled and twisted in intricate patterns up the center of the doors. For one brief moment there was sufficient light for Loki to see her eyes . . .

And felt his blood run cold.

There was a loud, sharp click, and the lock was free.

Enough was enough. This had to be stopped.

He was right behind her before she had even heard him. She whirled around with something close to a snarl, her hands reaching for his throat. But Loki was quicker than she; he caught both of her wrists in a steel-like grip and held them out away from her. He met her angry gaze with his own icy stare, and for a moment there was complete silence.

Her eyes. There was definitely something wrong with her eyes . . .

"What are you doing, Sigyn?" he demanded.

"How _dare_ you!" she hissed, trying to twist her hands out of his grip. He only held them tighter.

"_Answer me_."

"Let GO of me!"

"Not until you answer my question: what. Are. You. _Doing?_"

"It is no business of yours what I am doing!"

"You lied to me, Sigyn. You _have_ been here before." He tightened his grip until he saw her wince. "You know how I feel about being lied to."

"This has _nothing_ to do with you, Loki! You would do well not to meddle in affairs that are not your concern."

"How did you know how to open the doors?" he growled, not caring that he was hurting her fairly badly by now. "Who showed you this? Thor? Sif? Eir? _How did you know?"_

"I learn by watching others. Is that not what you yourself do?"

"Why are you doing this, Sigyn?" Her lips curled in a sneer.

"You have asked one too many questions, Loki. Mind your own affairs before it gets you into trouble. Now let _GO!_" With a suddenness that Loki found hard to believe Sigyn wrenched herself out of his grip and gave him a hard shove, forcing him away from her.

Loki only barely managed to catch his balance. His heart was hammering in his chest, fear making him feel cold all over. He had seen something ugly in her eyes just now, a passing shadow maybe, a darker shade swallowing midnight. Her skin had suddenly felt too warm, her strength sudden and terrifying. His fingers were still tingling. Sigyn never had this kind of power.

_There was only one time she did . . ._

"Loki?"

He braced a hand against the far wall and looked up. Sigyn was watching him with a stunned, frightened expression. All the color had drained from her face, making her look leaner and more tired than ever. Her midnight eyes were clear, focused on him, not understanding what had just happened.

"I'm sorry," she whispered weakly. "I didn't mean that."

Loki hesitated a moment before answering. For some reason it was difficult for him to breathe evenly.

"Why did you come here, Sigyn?" he asked, careful to keep his voice calm and gentle. He couldn't risk another outburst . . .

"I don't know," she confessed. "I just . . . Oh, I don't know! I don't know _anything_ anymore!" All coherent speech dissolved into frightened, angry tears.

Loki risked coming forward and took his wife in his arms, doing his best to both comfort her and stifle her sobs. If anyone heard them, they would start asking questions . . .

"Sigyn," he said quietly, "you should not be here, at the Weapons Vault. Promise me you will never return." He felt her nod slightly.

"I know. I promise, Loki."

But he did not feel sure about her promises anymore. He wished now that Thor had come to him sooner . . . no, he wished _he_ had realized sooner that something was wrong. Sigyn's outburst just now, the change in her appearance and in her eyes . . . something was not right.

And his fingers were still tingling . . .

He knew what he had to do, though he loathed to admit it. Someone had to know about this.

_But will the Alfather listen to the likes of me . . ?_


	4. Flame

FLAME

She was uncertain what she should expect from this.

Frigga had not been surprised when word reached Odin that his two sons wished a private audience with him. Nor had she been taken aback when the Alfather summoned the Lady Sif as well to join them. The events of the last several months were evidence enough of the necessity of such a request.

What _had_ surprised her was Odin's order to keep Sigyn under guard at all times. And, to add to her astonishment, it had been done at Loki's suggestion.

They met in one of the Antechambers of the most private area of the palace, a place that no one but the royal family had any business occupying. Here, they could speak openly and without fear of being overheard. Secrecy was vital.

_It was not often that an enemy of Asgard was found within its inner circle . . ._

Thor was clearly the spokesman for this council – and the mediator. Though Sif hardly paid Loki more than a glance since it began, Frigga could almost see the anger and resentment between the two of them. Her subtle hints and veiled insults only added to the dark atmosphere in the room.

Loki, however, had not said a word. He had stayed near the back of the room, leaning against one of the pillars, watching the others from the shadows with an indifferent expression.

"I thought this matter should be brought to someone's attention without delay," Thor was concluding. "Sigyn is still grieving, I realize that. But it has become clear – at least to myself and to Sif – that this mysterious and secretive behavior is far beyond anything that is typical even for her."

Odin looked passed him to the silent figure in the corner.

"Loki, I sense that there is a part of this tale you have yet to reveal."

All eyes turned to the God of Mischief. Loki's expression soured, but Frigga could tell by the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other that he was indeed holding something back. After a long silence he finally spoke.

"Sigyn knew exactly what she was doing. She has been misleading us all."

"Sigyn would NEVER –" But Odin's upraised hand stilled Sif's words.

"How so? You know her better than even I. How is it possible that one who is incapable of deception could fool us all for so long?" Loki shrugged.

"I never said she was _intentionally_ deceiving us. Her explanation that she did not remember where she had gone is quite true. But nevertheless, she still – in a way – lied."

"How can she lie and yet NOT lie?" Sif demanded angrily. Loki ignored her, choosing instead to lock eyes with Odin – the first time he had done so since coming to him with the others.

"Whether it was wise or not, I followed her last night. It took less than ten minutes to make her way down to the Weapons Vault – a place she claimed she had never been before."

"You spoke to her."

"Of course I did." A touch of sarcasm colored Loki's reply. "She gave me no explanation."

"She need not give an explanation to the likes of you," Sif muttered under her breath.

"Were you not saying only a few hours ago that I did not take enough interest in my wife's well-being?" Loki reminded her mockingly. "Really, Sif, what does it take to make you happy?"

"Nothing you say or do will _ever_ satisfy me!" she snapped back.

"Ah, then I suppose you handled it better than I did? I heard all about it. I'm sure Sigyn was impressed by your overwhelming compassion."

"She did not know what she was saying!" Sif insisted, clenching her hands into fists.

"I rather think she did," Loki sneered nastily. "You cared nothing for her personally. All you wanted was to protect your precious Vault."

Sif's cheeks were flaming with anger.

"You're a . . . a li – !"

"Go on! Say it!" Loki hissed.

There was a deadly pause. It was clear that Sif wanted nothing more than to fling insults in Loki's face. But she suddenly seemed to choke on her own words . . . simply because to everyone in the room they would be obvious. So she satisfied herself with a short, vile curse under her breath and turned away.

But Frigga saw the smirk that Sif could not.

"Enough." Odin's firm voice brought everyone's attention back to him. "This petty bickering amongst yourselves is pointless. The true concern lies not with your differences but with Sigyn's behavior." He paused, silently reprimanding both of them for their childishness. "Now. Continue, Loki."

Loki only cast a brief glance at Sif before answering.

"Sigyn knew not only where the Vault was, but how to open it. She easily discovered how the lock opens and succeeded in overcoming the spell."

"You told her how, I suppose . . ." Sif's accusation was met with an icy stare.

"Sigyn was never told how the doors opened, nor even that she had been chosen long ago as one of those permitted access to it. There was no reason she should know. But apparently, someone did."

"You suspect someone made her do this, brother?" Thor asked quietly. There was a moment of grim hesitation, and Loki's expression grew almost worried.

"Something happened when I confronted her. It was as if she suddenly became someone else, someone threatening and with a power that she should never have had. Perhaps it was in her voice, or maybe in her eyes . . . but there was just something very wrong." He looked down at his hands. "Something that had happened only once before . . ."

It was a long time before Thor was able to find his voice.

"Are you referring to our journey to Muspelheim?" he whispered. Loki nodded.

"The feelings were identical." Both men exchanged a glance and then looked up at Odin.

Though none would speak it aloud, everyone in that room understood what Loki was trying to say. Sigyn had once undergone the terrifying experience of an outside force using her as an instrument of destruction. At the time it had seemed as if that entity – whatever it had been – had been removed or expelled. Thor and Loki, however, had not seemed sure.

But only Frigga had known the truth . . . and it pained her to remain silent all these years.

"I believe it is plain to us all what must be done. Through no fault of her own, Sigyn can no longer be trusted. But until we know for certain who or what it is that is controlling her, we can do nothing to help her. Ensure that she learns no more than she already does. And as far as the rest of Asgard is concerned, this gathering never took place."

While Odin was still speaking, Frigga heard movement in the corridor outside. After just a few moments, she identified it as the sharp, hurried sound of footsteps; someone was all but running down the passage outside. A cold feeling of dread washed over her as a sudden premonition struck her. _Please say it isn't true . . ._

All conversation died away as the others heard it, too. A moment later, the bronze doors were pushed open, and a palace guard hurriedly stepped forward and saluted.

"Yes, what is it?" Odin called sharply. Frigga could hear the same dread in his voice that she felt in her heart. Something was about to go terribly wrong . . .

"Alfather, the Lady Sigyn has gone missing."

Thor and Sif exchanged a startled look, and Loki pushed away from his column in sudden alarm. Odin rose from his place and fixed the guard with a stern, penetrating stare. Frigga shut her eyes, feeling as if her heart had been torn in two. _I was not wrong_, she wept. _Not Sigyn. It cannot be happening to Sigyn . . ._

"I gave orders that she was not to walk this palace unescorted," Odin replied, just the threat of thunder in his voice. The guard quickly looked at the ground, terrified to look the Alfather in the eye.

"And they were carried out, Your Highness," he promised. "But she somehow eluded our patrols and disappeared somewhere in the palace. We have been searching for her since we realized she was gone, but –"

Loki had sprinted for the doors before the guard even finished his sentence, Thor and Sif not far behind.

"Double your patrol," Odin barked. "Send your men to the lower passages and have them begin their search there. Do so immediately!"

As the guard rushed away, following in their children's steps, Odin turned to Frigga.

"There is only one place she would go," he murmured. Frigga nodded, striving to calm her beating heart.

"Or the only place HE would take her," she whispered.

Silence filled the room. Odin had fixed her with a sharp penetrating stare. But she couldn't help but notice how his right hand trembled just slightly as he held Gungnir.

"You are certain now." It was not a question. Frightened tears were welling up in her eyes as quickly as her despair clutched her heart.

"I know now I was not mistaken. It cannot be anyone else."

Odin's good eye was narrowed in thought, in anger . . . and in sorrowful resolution. He could see as well as she could that monumental events were taking shape deep in the vaults below the palace. But he, unlike his sons, knew what the consequences would be . . . and what must now be done to prevent them.

"Stay here," he said sternly. "There is nothing you can do, either to help Sigyn or to stop HIM."

"What will you do?" Frigga cried, suddenly fearing the look in his eye. Odin shook his head sadly.

"I will do what must be done to save Asgard."

"Not Sigyn!" she begged. "Please, do not harm her -!"

"If HE gains what HE seeks to accomplish, it will be the end of us all. I do not wish to harm her . . . but neither can I allow her to continue to be used as a puppet of HIS destruction."

"But if she is lost, then so is my son! And Asgard will be beyond saving."

"Frigga, Sigyn cannot fight against the powers that now control her!" he answered. "HE has been manipulating her and feeding off of her spirit and life for two years now! It is a burden and a weariness that is far beyond anything she can withstand! You heard Loki's account; HE had nearly overshadowed her then . . . and by this time the Sigyn we once knew is no longer the Sigyn that now seeks the Weapons Vault." He sighed, seeming to suddenly shrink in size and power. "I must now do what is necessary to ensure the safety of Asgard and the protection of the Nine Realms."

Frigga turned away, unable to bear looking upon the man who was to be Asgard's defender . . . and Sigyn's destroyer.

"Do Thor and Loki know?" she murmured. Odin hesitated.

"No. I am certain they suspected something like this, but they cannot know that it is HIM. Perhaps . . . perhaps it is better they did not know."

"It matters little now," she answered sadly.

Odin fell silent. There was so obviously nothing else to be said that all speech now seemed useless. After a moment or two, Frigga heard him sigh and turn away.

And she could do little more than burry her face in her hands and sob.

* * *

There were times when Odin wished the burden of the throne had fallen to anyone else.

He was certain Loki knew a small part of what it meant to be King of Asgard, Thor even more so. His eldest son had defended Asgard and the Nine Realms from evil time and again, and Odin knew he had grasped the concept of humility and wisdom, the virtue of putting others before one's own well-being. Loki, while he had numerous missteps in the past, was also beginning to realize that being king was more than being above everyone else. It meant being the first in the charge, and the last in the retreat. It meant considering how events and actions would shape the lives of those one protected. But if there was one thing neither of them yet understood, it was the meaning of true sacrifice. How the good of the many outweighed the good of the one.

Nor could they imagine the pain that always came with it.

Odin had no wish to harm Sigyn. Indeed he felt if that was what it came to he would rather he be destroyed in the process. Long before she and Loki wed, he had welcomed her into his household as if she were his own daughter; he had watched her grow from a shy, frightened little girl barely 400 years old, into a stately, confident, kind-hearted woman. She had been a blessing both to him and to Loki, bringing his son back from the brink of madness so many years ago.

Sigyn held a piece of his heart . . . and that piece was being torn away from him.

He hurried through the palace corridors, following the path his sons and Sif would have taken to intercept Sigyn. He paid no heed to his subjects around him, pressing themselves aside for him and kneeling in respect. If he wished to save these innocent lives, speed was of the essence. By the time he arrived at the Vault, guards had flooded the passageway to take up positions on either side of the doors.

_And they were wide open_.

He crossed the threshold and took in the whole scene at a glance. Thor, Loki, and Sif had halted a few steps below him, their postures stiff and tense, as if they had been stunned and held in place. Three pairs of eyes were locked straight ahead, in the dark recesses of the dimly-lit Vault. Every artifact was still in its place, but midway down the short corridor, Odin could see a black shape just visible against the torchlight. Sigyn had paused before one particular relic, and she seemed to have been eyeing it intensely before she was interrupted.

But her hands were still reaching for it . . .

"STOP!" he bellowed. His voice cracked over the stone walls like a thunderclap. The three on the steps below started horribly at his voice, whirling around to face him. In a glance, Odin saw confusion, anger . . . and terror. But he could not spare them more than that one glance. His eyes were fixed on the figure below.

Sigyn's hands stayed where they were, poised over the relic as if they had been turned to stone. But her head slowly turned to look up at him . . . and Odin himself fought to keep the fear from showing in his eye. He now understood a part of what Thor and Loki had described when they returned from Muspelheim all those years ago.

"So," he said quietly, slowly stepping down passed the others, "that was your whole purpose from the beginning. To return to Asgard . . . and retrieve the Eternal Flame."

Sigyn – HE – smiled wickedly. HE did not seem the least surprised or concerned by Odin's presence.

"I was wondering how long it was going to take you to discover that, Alfather."

"You have been here all this time."

That smile broadened.

"Biding my time, weakening her, learning all I could. Though I must admit I did not expect she would resist for this long. You of all people know how I loathe waiting."

"Why Sigyn?" Odin demanded. He was now one step up from the base of the stairs, standing between his children and this demon before him.

A wicked laugh, and a flash of fire in those black eyes.

"What better way to disguise yourself than to use the body of a woman? No one would have known to suspect her of any deception or danger. It would have been better for her if she had simply done what she was told long ago. I would not have had to resort to such . . . extreme measures."

"You would not have released her even if she had. You simply would have killed her sooner."

"Ah, once again you see through my ploys. The Alfather's sword still has edge to it."

"Release her."

The air in the room suddenly seemed as if it was on fire. An oppressive feeling of rage and danger seemed to flow out of Sigyn's body and spill over them all. Gungnir came alive in Odin's hands as he readied himself for the inevitable.

"You will not make demands of me, Odin Alfather!" HE bellowed. "Asgard's time of reckoning has come, and I shall be the one to raze this city to the ground!"

"So be it, old foe."

Gungnir vibrated in his hand, ready to strike.

"So be it . . . SURTUR."


	5. Ablaze

ABLAZE

Sif gasped.

Thor was speechless.

A horrified "_No_," was torn from Loki.

Surtur applauded mockingly.

"Well done, Odin. How did you discover that it was I all along? Was it your sons' accounts of my attack on Muspelheim? Or perhaps it was the memory of taking my body from me all those years ago?

"Both," Odin growled. He was growing tired of this; it pained him to see those foul words coming from such a pure, innocent tongue . . . "But it was also the Queen's visions over the last six months."

"_What?_" Odin heard the storm building in Loki's voice. But he couldn't explain now . . .

"Ah, excellent! You have been planning as well. This should be an interesting contest. But, unfortunately, you are too late."

"I _will_ stop you, Surtur."

"Oh, no," he laughed. "You will not touch me. Because the only way to me . . . is through HER. And you simply cannot bring yourself to do that, can you? If you truly claim to be the Defender of the Nine Realms and protect the lives of the innocent . . . then you cannot take the life of an innocent woman."

"I do not see Sigyn before me now; I see a withered, empty vessel, filled now only by your vile spirit. I will do what I must."

"You would really destroy her?" Surtur mocked. "You would choose to kill a dear friend and daughter just to get one step closer to me?"

"No!" Loki shouted. He would have charged forward, stepped between the two of them, if Thor had not held him back.

"Yes!" Odin shouted. He felt as if his heart had been ripped out of him with that word. "Yes, I will destroy her if I must, because nothing is more important than the safety of Asgard and the protection of the Nine Realms."

"Then you care nothing for her?"

Odin wished he could smash that lying mouth.

"I love her more than you are capable of comprehending! But Sigyn would not wish to exist as the plaything of evil. She would rather _die_ than be used by a monster like you!"

"_No!_" His son sounded near frantic, and Odin could hear him struggling against Thor's restraining hands.

_His own heart wished for the freedom to say the same._

Surtur's maniacal laughter filled the room.

"Well, only time will tell. Now, Odin, return to me what is rightfully mine . . . and then stand aside."

The Alfather was an unyielding mountain.

"A foolish request, Surtur. You know full-well that I will grant no such request. Leave Sigyn's body, leave Asgard – NOW – while I still allow it."

Surtur sighed.

"Then I suppose we shall have to do this the hard way."

_Fire struck._

Odin only just moved in time to avoid the powerful spell that tore apart the bottom ten steps. The roar of the explosion was deafening, shaking the walls of the Vault and cracking the stone floor. The other three above him were flung off their feet, desperately trying to avoid the masonry that was falling around them.

"**GIVE UP THE FLAME, ODIN, OR I SHALL DESTROY ALL OF YOU!**"

But Odin was already on his feet, Gungnir answering the challenge.

Surtur danced out of the Alfather's reach, laughter ringing in his ears almost as loudly as their two spells crashed into the stones around them.

"Come COME, Alfather!" HE shrieked in delight, eyes alight with madness. "Let us two set the pieces in motion, set the stage for the greatest era of the universe: THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS!"

Odin's next spell connected with Surtur squarely in the chest. The head snapped back as the marionette was flung off her feet. For one, brief moment, HE was powerless.

_It was his only chance._

"Forgive me, Sigyn."

Gungnir roared.

"_NO!_"

Without warning Loki threw himself, not at Surtur, but at Odin, slamming into him with such desperate force both were hurled to the ground.

Gungnir missed its mark.

Maniacal laughter, Thor and Sif thrown aside, and HE was gone.

_His one chance at ending this once and for all had vanished._

With a deafening roar, Odin seized Loki by the throat, pinning him against the wall.

"**_WHY!?_**"

"Father, no!" Thor pleaded.

"_YOU LET HIM GO!_"

Loki was terrified. He could see it in his eyes.

"_DO YOU REALIZE __**WHAT YOU HAVE**__**DONE?!**_"

Odin flung Loki to the ground. He was shaking with rage.

Loki was trembling in fear.

And anger.

"You would have . . . you would have _killed_ her!" he rasped, clutching his throat.

"SHE IS **NO LONGER YOUR WIFE**!" Odin bellowed. Gungnir was alive in his hand. "Whatever little of Sigyn that was left inside that body is gone now! And by letting him escape you have brought about the end of Asgard . . . of ALL of us!"

"_Father!_" Thor shouted.

His voice was enough to shock Odin back to his senses.

Thor was looking at him with an expression of such shock and horror that Odin at once realized what he had just done. Never before had he lashed out at his sons like that . . .

"There is still time, Father," Thor continued softly. "Surtur has fled for the moment, but he could not have gone far. He has no means of leaving Asgard, not without taking Sigyn with him."

Thor was right; there was still time to postpone the inevitable . . .

"He will return, I am certain of it," he agreed, brow furrowed in thought. "His sole purpose in coming to Asgard was to seize the Flame and return to Muspelheim with it."

"But if he is a soul without a body, how can the Flame aid him?" Sif asked. Her voice was also shaking.

"The Flame is more than just a weapon," Odin explained. "It is his source of power, his means of achieving conquest of all the Nine Realms. Once before I prevented him from using it, destroying that cursed corpse he called a body. I believed him to have been destroyed. A foolish belief. As long as the Flame burns on, his soul can never depart the realm of the living."

"Then you _knew_," Loki demanded. He had risen to his feet and was now staring up at Odin with a look of such fury that Surtur's fire seemed mild by comparison. "You knew he was using her from the beginning!"

"No, Loki, I did not know! Not for certain. Of course I realized that it had to be one of the Fire Demons that had taken over Sigyn on Muspelheim; how could it have been anything else? There was no way any of us – not even I – could have known it was Surtur . . . and that he had remained within her all this time."

"_Someone did_," Loki whispered.

Silence.

In that brief moment, Odin feared for his wife . . .

"We must put all such accusations aside for the moment," he said aloud. "There is vital work to be done if disaster is to be avoided." He turned and threaded his way around the debris towards the relic that still burned as still and as steady as if it cared nothing for the monumental events taking shape around it. He carefully lifted the Eternal Flame from its place.

_He was keenly aware that he held the annihilation of Asgard in his hands . . ._

"Thor." He gave the weapon to his oldest son, realizing the fate of their race was depending on the God of Thunder. "You must take this and hide it away, somewhere safe, where Surtur would never suspect or dare to go. He must _not_ reclaim it . . . no matter the cost."

"The King of the Light Elves has never refused a command from the Alfather," Sif agreed. "He will keep it safe; the army of Alfheim is second only to that of Asgard . . ."

"Do not go alone," Odin warned. "In this task of such great importance, you cannot trust yourself to journey to Alfheim unaided."

"I will go with him," Sif agreed immediately. He knew she would . . .

"Fandral, Hogen, and Volstagg would murder me if I were to leave them behind," Thor mused. He sounded almost happy in that moment. "Loki –"

"I am staying in Asgard."

Thor hesitated, greatly surprised by the quick answer.

"Brother, there is nothing –"

"I will NOT leave while my wife is still in danger! Her life is of the utmost importance."

"More than the innocent lives of Asgard?" Sif snapped.

"ENOUGH!" Odin bellowed. "Quarreling amongst ourselves will gain us nothing. Thor, you must go, and without delay. Time is short."

"I will not fail you, Father." A faint smile surfaced on Odin's face.

"I know you will not. Now _go_."

Without another word, Thor and Sif turned and rushed up the broken steps, vanishing through the open doors above.

Leaving Odin and Loki alone.

The Alfather waited for his youngest son to speak; but it was as if "Silvertongue" had turned to stone. Eyes, hands, face, all were locked in an immovable prison.

"What will you do, Loki?" he asked quietly. He regretted losing his temper. It had only reinforced Loki's hatred . . .

"I have business with your wife."

_From the mouth of a serpent . . ._

Odin felt no surprise, nor even a great degree of alarm. He had expected as much. And though Loki's eyes clearly spoke of potential harm – even death – Odin knew his son well enough to know that he was incapable of such an act.

Odin didn't answer him. He merely nodded.

Loki swept up the steps and passed him without so much as a glance. His anger burned the air around them.

Such was the way it must be. Frigga was certain to have seen this coming as well . . .

"Guards!" Odin barked. Six soldiers appeared at the top of the stairs. "Come. There are preparations to make. Listen very carefully . . ."

* * *

A violent storm flung the doors wide open.

Frigga started back, unsure of what it meant.

_Her heartbeat ceased when she saw him there on the threshold . . ._

"YOU!" he roared. "YOU _VILE_, _BRAZEN_, _PETULANT_ **_WITCH!_**"

She was nearly stunned speechless.

"Loki, what – ?"

"You LIED to me!" he bellowed. His cloak swirled angrily around him as he rushed forward. "You SAW this coming and yet you did NOTHING!"

"Loki, please, let me explain . . !"

"You stood by _all this time_ and yet you did absolutely nothing to prevent it! You KNEW Sigyn was in danger but you chose to keep it to yourself!"

"It was not my choice! You must believe me!"

"How can I put my trust in you when everything you've ever said . . . everything you've ever _done_ . . . has been a LIE?!"

"Loki -!"

"WHY!? WHY didn't you tell me!?"

"I couldn't! You know that I cannot - !"

"It's all too plain now! Surtur is not the enemy here; YOU are! It has ALWAYS been YOU! You have always sought to ruin me! Holding me back! Lying to me! Even in bringing that _girl_ to the palace!"

"Loki, please -!"

But there was no mercy in those flaming eyes.

"You KNEW! All along! You knew I would grow to need her more than I need anything else! You knew from that very first moment that she would become the ONE THING I could never bear to lose! And you let me . . . you let me love her and need her anyway! And you knew that one day I would have to face that possibility – that chance – of losing her forever . . . something I should NEVER have had to face. ALL ALONG!" Loki was screaming in rage, towering over Frigga. "I can't lose her! I won't! DO YOU HEAR ME!? I WON'T LET YOU TAKE HER FROM ME!"

Loki had started stumbling nearly halfway into his tirade. Now, as he attempted to turn he moved too far and was unable to catch his balance. His shoulder hit the wall and he winced but continued to hurl abuse into the stone he faced.

She held out a hand and attempted to move forward when she saw his eyes shining. Her own heart threatened to overflow.

The cold fire of his gaze froze her steps and froze her soul.

_Loki sees her halt, revels in the power he holds over her, in this moment if never before._

_The anger is burning, living fires of madness. He remembers this too well. It fills him with insatiable power. But it also leaves him without direction. It frightens him, to be out of control like this._

_Sigyn could stop this. She always knew how. One word from her could cure his madness._

_But she is gone. He has no one . . ._

"Loki –"

"Do NOT speak, _woman!_" He lets his anger loose. "You said nothing when you knew what could happen. You will NOT speak now! Your words mean _NOTHING_ to me!"

"I'm sorry, I –"

"I don't want your pity! I don't want your – your lies! I don't want – _anything_ – you can give me!"

_He feels the sparks forming. The power growing. That bitter tang of some base metal is sharp in his throat. He knows this, too. He can't stop it. Doesn't want to._

Frigga continued to move closer, wanting nothing more than to take her son, her hurting child, into her arms as she once had. She refused to let his words stop her, refused to let the rage burning in his gaze cause her resolve to falter.

"Loki, if you would just LISTEN to me!"

_She is crying now, truly crying. That woman who claimed motherhood. Who claimed to love him._

_Who LIED!_

"I will _NOT!_ LISTEN! To _ANYTHING!_ You say! _YOU! ARE!_ **_NOTHING!_**"

_He hurls blasphemies, hatred, every vile curse his demons tell him to say. At Frigga. At Odin. At Surtur. At Asgard and Helheim and every other realm he can imagine. His soul is a bottomless pit, the madness is dragging him down, back down into the Sickness he thought he had left behind. And there is no hope, no relief, no cure this time . . . because without her, he has nothing worth living for._

With a manic bellow, Loki hurled his spell across the room, giving vent to the primal need for destruction that was so obviously raging inside him. The entire wall opposite them turned to ice . . . then exploded outward into shattered, jagged pieces. Frigga screamed.

_His head is roaring, voices crying out as one, his inner turmoil finally finding release. He feels again the terrifying sensation of his life collapsing in on him, consuming him, burning his mind and his reason. He can't lose her! Not Sigyn! He would rather die . . ._

_He hears himself screaming for help, calling for someone to save him from his anguish. But there's no one to hear . . ._

Loki fell to his knees, his voice dissolving into little more than broken cries, begging for relief. He was sobbing her name, desperate for the comfort of the one woman in all the Nine Realms that mattered to him. But his cries went unanswered . . .

It was more than Frigga's heart could stand.

* * *

He came to himself, slowly, painfully, like a man waking from a nightmare. Breathing was difficult, agonizing, a spastic convulsion of strained muscles beyond his ability to control. Movement was impossible, his limbs reduced to trembling, useless extensions of his existence. Despair mingled with the noxious taste of bile in his mouth. His reason returned in broken bits and pieces, jagged edges that tore into his heart all over again. The voices were silenced at last.

_But the pain was still there._

He found that he was clinging to something desperately, fingers clenched tight as if it was the anchor for his soul. He had expected the cold, unfeeling embrace of stone. But as feeling returned to his hands he found it was the warm, comforting embrace of a woman's arms. For one fleeting, hopeful moment he thought it was Sigyn, cradling his head against her shoulder as she had done so many times before.

"Oh, Loki, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. . ."

_Frigga._

Loki swallowed his disappointment. In his delirium he had collapsed into the arms of the one person he had blamed for everything that had happened.

But it was a token of his exhaustion that he did not push her away.

For a long moment neither of them spoke, neither of them moved. For him, it was too hard to let go. For her, it was too hard to let him suffer alone.

"Why . . ." he murmured, struggling to control his breathing. "Why didn't you say anything?" He heard her take a shuddering breath, felt her hold him just a little closer.

"I wanted to," she whispered. "When I realized what was happening . . . but I couldn't. You know that I couldn't. The Second Sight cannot be shared with anyone else . . . no matter the circumstances."

"You could have stopped it," he accused in a thick voice. He wasn't done crying yet . . . "You could have warned us . . . kept any of this from happening . . . you could have saved her . . ."

"I know, Loki. I love her as well."

_Love._

_Why was love always the source of his pain?_

"Because love means you are opening yourself up to hurt. You are giving another person the chance to wound you deeply but hoping they will not."

His eyes darted up to Frigga, not realizing he had said anything.

"Love means you care so much for something that you would rather endure pain than see the slightest harm come to them. You share their pain."

He wanted to laugh in her face. He wanted to deny it all, spare his already shattered heart from splintering further. But deep down he knew she was right. It was a weakness. It was a strength. It gave him hope, a reason to continue to exist. It gave him despair, a desire to end it all when he lost it all. Whether he had wished it or not, his love for Sigyn had become the singular source for his life, and always would.

_Which made what he had to do that much more agonizing . . ._

"I wanted to stop it," Frigga was crying. "No torture could be greater than knowing what is ahead . . . but being forbidden to act. If I could have prevented it, I would have . . ."

He didn't regret anything he said. He meant it all. But as his anger was now spent he saw things in a different light. Frigga was not the enemy. She had simply been an easy target for his rage.

Loki forced himself to let her go, pull away from her and rise shakily to his feet.

Her hand stayed on his arm, steadying him . . . giving him the resolve to do the impossible . . .

"Loki?" He looked down at her tear-stained face. "What will you do now?"

_It was best not to think about it . . . just get it over with . . ._

"Whatever I must . . ."


	6. Inferno

INFERNO

**_She watches him leave, a mere shade of his former self, empty. Bitter memories and hopes are all that are left to him. Whatever hope that was left in his spirit is gone now, an empty, shapeless void in its wake. She has seen his pain, the agonizing choice that now lay before him._**

**_For the second time, she has lost her son . . ._**

Frigga watched Loki leave the room, his face – which had been so full of grief and hatred – now empty, just as his soul was now hollow with the loss of Sigyn. Angry, frightened tears had long since dried, leaving a grim determination in his bright green eyes.

But her Loki was gone now. Gone beyond recall.

For the second time, she had lost her son.

Time ceased.

Frigga had to catch herself from falling, a horrible feeling of familiarity sweeping over her.

_What had just happened?_

A dream. She had seen that in a dream, not two nights ago: a vision of Loki, leaving on a terrible mission, something horrible he had to accomplish. At the time she had not seen it clearly. But now . . .

Her nightmares were alive!

**_"Come friends, we must away at once!"_**

**_"Where, Thor?" Fandral asks, striving to keep up with Thor's quick pace._**

**_"To Alfheim. The Alfather has given us a task, one that we must not fail to carry out."_**

**_"Thor, what is happening? The entire palace is in an uproar," Hogen demands, eyeing the artifact in his hand._**

**_"Asgard is in mortal danger. Surtur seeks to bring about the end of our race."_**

**_"Surtur?! But that is impossible –"_**

**_"Volstaag, there is_**_ no time to explain!" Sif interrupted. They found their horses already saddled. "Surtur has claimed Sigyn's body as his instrument, and he seeks to retake the Flame and reforge his mortal form."_

_"Alfheim is the only other realm that Surtur would not dare attack," Thor answered, swinging himself up into his saddle; the Flame burned brightly in his hand even in the bright midday sun . . . "It must be hidden with them before Surtur discovers it missing."_

_"And then to return here and give him battle!" Fandral shouted, brandishing his sword with unabashed eagerness. Thor smirked._

_"Indeed, friend . . . but not at once. After Alfheim, there is one final deed that I believe must be done."_

_Sif eyed him warily._

_"Thor, if you are planning what I believe you are, you will be taking a grave risk . . ."_

Frigga passed a hand in front of her eyes, and the memory faded away like mist. Yet another dream was now reality, as she knew her oldest son was setting off on his own quest, the safety of Asgard literally in his hands.

If only she could make this stop . . .

**_"No one is to pass through these doors, save myself or my sons," Odin orders. He is flanked by guards and no longer in his court robes. He has donned his battle armor once again, as if war was coming to the very heart of Asgard._**

**_"Alfather, what is happening?" a soldier asks. The fear is easily heard in his voice._**

**_"I cannot tell you all, but I shall say that_**_ Asgard is now in mortal danger. It is of the utmost importance that the Lady Sigyn should be denied access to the Weapons Vault. No matter the cost."_

_"Lady Sigyn?" the guard asked, surprised. "But why . . ?"_

_"Yours is not to question," Odin barked, Gungnir clenched in his fist. "Your duty is to protect Asgard from her destruction, and you shall do so by preventing Sigyn's entrance into this chamber!"_

_"And . . ." another guard hesitated. "If she does . . . attempt . . ?"_

_There was a long, heavy pause._

_"You shall kill her."_

"No!" Frigga cried, tears washing away her remembrance of that second vision. "No, do not kill her! Please!"

But the memories kept coming - those visions that had flashed before her eyes as if she were standing outside of time and seeing everything unfold before her. Her world had literally been collapsing around her. . .

Just as she knew it would now . . .

* * *

He was surprised how easily he was able to move passed the guards. If this is what Asgard boasted as a defense, then there would be little resistance to anticipate.

He wished he could have killed the guards; there was little he enjoyed better, and the loss of a physical form meant he could do it far less often than he liked. For such a weak, pathetic form, this Asgardian woman was proving to be a most useful tool. But there was no time to kill, not yet. He must still escape this place, and the Alfather was surely searching for him. Then, and only then, would he truly be at ease to bask in his inevitable victory. The girl must come with him, of course; without her body, there could be no returning with the Flame.

And then, he would enjoy his first kill in centuries . . .

The Vault was just the same as when he had left it. He had to choose his steps with care, the bottom of the stairs in ruins from his first encounter with the Asgardians. The sight made him smile; it was pleasing to see the evidence of his destruction laid out before him. This girl's magic, combined with his own, was nearly unstoppable.

He passed on, threading his way through the debris, towards the pedestal that stood half-way down the short corridor. He could almost taste victory at this moment, feeling the weight of the Flame in his hands once again, feeding off of its power and strength.

But when he arrived at the place, the smile vanished from his face.

_The Flame was gone!_

"Surprised?" a voice whispered. Surtur whirled around, black eyes piercing the darkness around him. "I must say that – for all your power and cunning – you have proved yourself a fool. Did you really expect to find the Flame where you had seen it last?"

Footsteps echoed softly off the stone alcoves, and a deeper shadow emerged from its hiding place.

_Loki._

* * *

"WHERE IS IT!?" Surtur roared, flying at Loki with such speed that he could not have avoided him even if he had tried. A moment later he was pinned by his neck to the base of the ruined steps. He clenched his teeth, trying not to let the pain show; the withered hand at his throat was unbearably hot . . .

"Did you honestly think," he managed, choking out a forced laugh, "that we would leave the Flame where it was? Only a fool would let his enemy walk away with his greatest weapon."

"_Where is it?_" The face hovering only inches away from his was twisted and burned by hatred. That quiet hiss was more frightening than any previous outburst of anger.

But once again, Loki did not see an enemy; he found himself, unwillingly, looking into the face of one that he had loved . . . still did . . . could not bear to see fade forever . . . .

_He would NOT let Surtur take her from him . . ._

"Hidden," he replied simply. His voice was an icy steel to match the Fire Demon's rage. "Hidden where you will never find it." A growl was building in Surtur's throat, the searing pain on his neck increasing . . .

"But I will tell you where it is."

Time stood still. Surtur was now watching Loki with an expression of confusion and dark anticipation through those black eyes of his. Loki tried to ignore the way his heart wanted to leap out of his chest. "Silver-Tongue" had no weaknesses.

"I will tell you where the Alfather sent the Eternal Flame, where the God of Thunder now runs to hide it from you. In a few short hours, your power shall be restored to you, your body remade, and all of the power you have craved for centuries will be yours at last."

Surtur's eyes burned into his with a look of such fierce hunger that Loki had to resist the urge to look away.

"But there is one thing I shall want first."

A slow, sly smile; how could HE force her to smile like that . . ?

"Ah yes," the demon cooed mockingly. "Silver-Tongue always has his price. What is it?"

"Release my wife."

There was a long, deadly pause.

"Just as audacious as the Alfather," Surtur laughed. "As if I would ever cater to the request of an Asgardian."

"The price I ask is insignificant in comparison to the rewards you would reap," Loki pointed out. "What is one life compared to unimaginable power?"

For a moment, he thought Surtur would actually agree, would release his hold on his dear Sigyn, with the lure of conquest just before his eyes. The grip on his throat lessened, the pain easing, and those horrible eyes no longer fixed on his own.

"Your offer is tempting," he agreed quietly. "With the Flame returned to its rightful place, I will once again have the strength, the power, to challenge Odin – just as I did all those centuries ago. My mortal form is nearly ready . . ." He stopped and looked back down at the young man at his feet. "But why should you be willing to sacrifice the lives of your own people – merely for one insignificant girl?" He laughed spitefully. "Can it be that Silver-Tongue has a weakness after all?"

Loki said nothing. His mouth was suddenly dry. The look in those eyes just then . . .

A flash of searing pain dug into his side, an unwilling cry of surprise wrenched from his mouth.

"Why should I not simply _force_ you to tell me?" Surtur growled; two long, thin fingers had dug their way under his ribs, into the very same place Sigyn had wounded him all those years ago. "It would not be difficult; one brief moment of _pain_ – " He thrust his hand in deeper; Loki bit his lip, " – and you _will_ tell me _everything_."

"If that – is what you – believe," Loki replied stiffly, biting off every word, fighting against Surtur's grip, "then you clearly do not know – your enemy – well enough."

The fingers dug even deeper, fire seeping into his side.

"Tell me," Surtur hissed.

"Not until you let Sigyn go," Loki gasped. Every breath was now a monumental effort, the pain and the heat growing by the second.

"_Tell me!_"

"Let her go!"

"WHERE IS IT!?"

"_NO!_"

With a sickening rush, something spilled over Loki's side, warm and dark. Fire ripped into his flesh, eating up into his heart, his mind.

"**TELL ME!**"

Loki screamed.

There was an explosion like a thunderclap. Surtur was thrown backwards, his hell-like grip on Loki's throat suddenly slack. Gasping, trying to staunch the flow of blood from his side, Loki turned his head to glance behind him.

All he saw was the end of a golden staff . . .

"DO NOT _EVER_ DARE TO TOUCH _MY SON_ AGAIN!"

Surtur rose to his feet, breathing heavily, eyeing the Alfather with a look of pure venom. Blood dripped from the left hand, splashing onto the stone floor. Then suddenly, rising above the pain, Loki felt his fingers tingling; powerful magic was about to be unleashed.

"Where is the Eternal Flame, Odin?" Surtur demanded. "What have you done with it?"

"That, I hope, is something you will never know."

Fire was burning the air around them; Surtur's Avatar was glowing like the embers of a bonfire. Flames licked the hem of Sigyn's robes, the eyes alight with a hellish glare, and the long gold hair was swirling around her as if from an otherworldly storm.

Then, with a howl of rage, the demon struck.

Surtur's first spell was so powerful, so sudden, that the earth itself seemed about to shatter beneath their feet. For a few horrifying seconds both Odin and Loki were enveloped in flames; Loki could almost feel the heat seeking a way through his defenses. But the next moment Gungnir responded; there was a flash of light, a rush of wind, and Surtur's fire was extinguished.

But no sooner had his first attack failed that Surtur, with an animal-like snarl, flung himself up at the Alfather.

Odin pushed Loki down the stairs and out of the way just as the fire demon came crashing down on his head. Catching himself at the base, Loki managed to twist himself around to look at what was happening above him. Surtur and Odin were fighting hand-to-hand, weapons forgotten, shards of magic splintering over the stones around them. The Fire Demon no longer paid any heed to the Frost Giant Child curled up on the steps; his eyes at that moment were solely for the Alfather, the Mountain that stood in the path of his victory.

_Sometimes it was fortunate Loki was overlooked . . ._

A cold green light suddenly filled the chamber and Surtur roared, stumbling in surprise. Loki's spell had hit its mark in the back of his neck; the demon's power cooled for a moment, weakened by the unexpected attack. Odin pressed his advantage, and his next spell propelled the enemy backwards. But if Surtur had lost his mortal form in combat centuries ago, he had lost none of his reflexes . . . or tenacity. With an enraged bellow, his arms thrust out, sweeping in a wide, swift motion –

An intense pain like the cut of a whip struck Loki fair in the chest, flinging him off-balance and making the jagged, broken stones beneath him dig deeper into his already-bleeding side. He suddenly found he couldn't hear properly; even the sound of his own breathing was muffled and faded. His fingers clawed at the stones for support.

When he finally opened his eyes . . . Surtur was nowhere in sight.

And Odin lay unmoving on the stairs, Gungnir silent by his side.

Loki forced himself up on his shaking legs, balancing himself against the steps around him as the world tilted dangerously. Hardly aware of what he was doing, he stumbled to Odin's side. The Alfather did not move, did not seem to even notice his approach. He hardly seemed to _breathe_. But one brief glance quieted his (_unwilling_) fears; Odin's chest was rising and falling evenly, and his pulse was still strong. Surtur had only managed to stun him, not kill him. An ugly, flame-red slash had imbedded itself across his chest; the edges of the metal armor were still glowing.

A drop of blood splashed across Odin's armor plating, and Loki looked down; an identical line had appeared across his own shoulders.

Loki's eyes strayed from Odin's face to the staff that lay by his side. The power of the Alfather, within arm's length, awaiting the touch of another to command it. He felt his right hand slowly clench, fingers curling into a fist. Surtur was at this moment making his way to the Bifrost, seeking his escape from Asgard and to begin his search for the Flame. Loki had nothing but his magic to use against him . . . and he knew in his heart that it wouldn't be enough. He needed a weapon, something to equal the power of the Fire Demon.

Would it be wrong to take up Gungnir again . . . just for a short while . . . ?

The power of the Alfather, his to command . . .

His hand closed around the cold hilt of the scepter. It hummed beneath his fingers, as if it recognized his touch. Gungnir had been his once, for a short time . . . before it all went wrong. It had obeyed him then, when he had been King of Asgard . . . and Loki knew somehow that it would obey him once again.

A smile, unbidden, crossed his face. For one moment he was almost happy . . .

But Asgard was still in danger, his Sigyn was still out there –

_Sigyn . . ._

Loki hefted Gungnir into his firm grip, pushed himself to his feet, and laboriously climbed the stairs and rushed out of the chamber.


	7. Consumed

CONSUMED

Iridescent mist flowed down and away into the emptiness of space beneath the ever-watchful eye of Heimdal, Protector of the Realm Eternal. Nothing ever escaped his notice, not one whisper, not one act of anyone a thousand miles away. He saw wars and death and battles and peace as they had their time on the Nine Realms. He saw events beneficial to Asgard but, most of all, he saw the threats. From without and, occasionally, from within.

And it was now, rising above all others, that he saw one headed toward his silent vigil.

* * *

At the point where prismed road became stone the tall, wide gates swung apart of their own accord, and Alsvingdr thundered across the Bridge. Up ahead, Loki could see flashes of light and color dancing across the Bifrost. The air was alight with fire and the sharp glint of steel. Surtur was now battling Heimdal, one of the most powerful men in all of the Nine Realms.

But even at that distance, Loki could see that the strength of the Avatar was nearly spent. For all of his rage and dark intent and power, Surtur was still bound to a mortal body, one that could not cope with the strain he was placing on it. Every spell that was cast, every outflowing of strength that was imposed, it only weakened it further, brought the inevitable closer.

And once the vessel broke, Surtur's spirit would be free to roam the Realms once again . . . and he would be beyond the reach of even the Alfather.

He had to be stopped before that happened.

There was no doubt that Surtur heard him approach; but, like all fiends in the universe, he was horribly practical. Heimdal was the immediate threat; he could not spare even a single glance at what was coming behind. A flaming sword was in his hand, and he met each of the Gatekeeper's blows with fearsome power.

He couldn't fight two threats at once . . . and in that instant Loki took action.

It was instinct; he did it without thinking. He lifted the staff in a one-handed grip and, with his horse racing at full-speed toward the combatants, he hurled Gungnir at Surtur with all of his strength.

The instant the scepter left his fingers he realized what he had just done, had just condemned –

Surtur's left hand flung out behind him, deflecting Gungnir away as if it were a primitive spear. But the instant he touched it he let out a blood-curdling scream; the power of Odin recognized an enemy even in passing. The scepter left a blackened slash in its wake, sailing back through the air to the hands of the one that commanded it. Loki caught the weapon in his left hand, passed it to his right, and made a desperate charge past the enemy. Gungnir swept down and out, nearly catching Surtur's left leg. But he danced out of the weapon's reach, all the while deflecting Heimdal's attacks.

Loki circled back . . . and felt his breath catch in his chest.

Heimdal stood over Surtur, seeming to have just knocked his sword out of the Avatar's grip. The Gatekeeper raised his sword high for what was sure to be the killing blow –

"NO!" The scream was unbidden, uncontrolled; it burst out of him before he could stop it. Heimdal and Surtur both froze, watching Loki expectantly.

_The universe hushed for one, anxious moment . . ._

"Leave him to me, Heimdal," he felt himself say, body numb as he climbed slowly out of the saddle. "Only ensure he does not escape."

Heimdal obediently took several steps back, his body and weapon creating a nearly-unbreakable wall between the Bifrost and Surtur's freedom. But the Fire Demon slowly turned to face Loki, crouched like a wolf prepared to spring, venom in his gaze. He laughed spitefully, flames curling around his Avatar like living claws.

"HE?" came the mocking voice. "_HE?_ You cannot stop ME, foolish boy! You will only stop my slave. I thought you cared for your _dear_ Sigyn? Can you bring yourself to destroy one you swore you would not live without?"

"ENOUGH!" Loki howled, fighting back tears as well as hatred. "You're not Sigyn! The Alfather was right; what little that was left of Sigyn is dead. All I choose to see now is an enemy – _my _enemy – I and I alone will destroy you."

"Don't you wish to free your precious wife?" Surtur roared.

Black magic shattered on the Bifrost at Loki's feet. Gungnir felt like winter in his hands . . .

"More than anything!" He took a deep breath. "But the only way to free her now – is to kill both of you!"

Surtur flung his arms up to shield himself from a blast of ice.

Their eyes locked . . . and Surtur _knew_.

He knew Loki was serious. He had doubted his resolve in the Vault, had laughed at his pained efforts to release his dear wife's soul from the monster's claws. But now the Inferno knew the Frost Giant Child would not hesitate.

Which made HIM all the more dangerous.

Surtur roared. Loki tightened his hold on Gungnir – and with an impact that seemed to shatter the air around them, the two combatants collided.

_He gives in to the power flowing through him. For once he doesn't try to stop the madness, the Sickness. It gives him strength, gives him resolve, numbs his mind and soul to what he is trying to do. He matches Surtur's fury with his own, driving him back, crushing his own despair with every blow given._

Behind them came a piercing neigh. At first Loki thought it was Alsvingdr, shying away from powers he did not understand. He risked a glance behind him –

Odin – very much alive – sat astride his own steed, Sleipnir, barring the way back to the city.

"Loki!" he roared. But Loki paid no heed to the Alfather's presence. Surtur rushed at him again, desperation now in every movement, in every attack . . . in every weakening defense . . .

_Sigyn's body is failing. Her face, her hands, her arms, all are wasting away in front of him. Only the eyes shine brighter, burn hotter with a hatred and resolve that transcended beyond what the mortal vessel can take. And one small hesitation, one monumental effort to force it to move yet again, is more than it can stand._

_The Avatar stumbles, falls at his feet._

_He raises Gungnir like a battering ram, aims it toward those hateful eyes. Those eyes that speak of malice and rage and power and everything Asgard most fears._

_Those eyes have stolen his wife from him . . ._

* * *

_Sigyn was so tired._

_Her body, her mind, but mostly her spirit._

_For months she had fought - doing all she could to keep it - HIM - from taking her body as a puppet._

_He had taken it anyway._

_She remembered the first time that voice had said LET GO and she had been too surprised to fight long enough. Most of all she remembered the first time she had _wanted_ to let go._

_Her little girl was gone, Loki was barring himself away from the world, and she had only her work as a healer left - which Eir had then taken from her following her . . . accident. The compulsion had been so tempting..._

_She had found herself wandering the deep hallways of the palace. In between her long hours of grief and confusion she found moments that her memory did not touch. She was grateful - if she couldn't remember, it couldn't hurt._

_Eir had allowed her to return within the month and Sigyn immersed herself in that. The moments still lost were uncounted and easily forgotten._

_Then it had become terrifying._

_She remembered awaking to a handful of guards escorting her gently to her rooms. Sif speaking to her, offering comfort in her own way, with a voice of steel. And Loki... emerged from his solitude, his eyes watching her with such suspicion._

_The moment her door closed after he led her to their rooms, for the first time in months everything had become clear._

_But by then she couldn't tell anyone. She couldn't tell them that they were all in danger, that they were right to be wary of her, that she was so very, very _sorry_..._

_That demon had her._

_HE had pushed her down, silenced her voice, commandeered every action until all she could do was curl up in a tiny corner of her mind and scream with a silent cry none could hear. She saw how HE had waited and planned all those months, had lived on her body and spirit like a parasite. How HE had been the one to murder Liv when Sigyn could only support one of them..._

_She had thrown herself against the presence in her mind with renewed grief when HE had allowed her to learn that. HE had seemed amused by her struggle._

_And then HE settled his mind on the Eternal Flame and she saw what HE planned to do..._

_The Alfather was defeated, Thor and his warriors were too far to stop HIM now, her Loki was powerless, and Heimdal was certain to be pushed aside by the heat of Surtur's fire. She was Asgard's last chance, the Nine Realms' last defense against annihilation. _

_She. Little healer Sigyn - whose greatest claim to anything even _resembling _glory was her refusal and inability to break a promise, and whose greatest strength was her love for someone Asgard named unlovable._

_What was Fate doing in giving her this impossible task?_

_How could fidelity and love ever hope to match the demon said to one day end the Realms?_

_Sigyn couldn't see any effort on her part ever making a difference... but she had to try._

_For the Realms, for Asgard, for Loki... for Liv._

_One last time she pushed herself, gave everything she had, threw herself into the inferno . . ._

_She _fought_._

* * *

Surtur suddenly wrenched himself away, dropping to one knee as if he had been dealt a heavy blow.

But Loki hadn't touched him . . .

"Get up," Surtur growled, shaking his head. "I said GET UP."

Loki's eyes narrowed; surely he wasn't talking to him . . . ?

The Avatar was shaking, emaciated limbs attempting to push away from the Bifrost, to get back on its feet and keep fighting. But the seconds went by and nothing happened. It stayed where it was, breathing raggedly, trying to survive another agonizing minute . . .

"GET UP!"

. . .Then something happened. Something changed. A subtle shift in posture, a change in power. And the eyes . . .

_Were the eyes changing?_

". . . _no_ . . ."

It whispered so quietly it was almost missed. The voice was tired, beaten . . . but clear.

Loki turned to stone.

"_Sigyn?_"

"I can make you," HE hissed wickedly. "I have done it before, and it shall not be difficult now."

"Get . . . _out_ . . . of me . . ."

_She was still there. And she was fighting!_

"SIGYN!"

"Oh you believe you can stop me?" HE mocked. "I have held you in my power for months and you could not _help_ but do my bidding. Now GET. UP!"

The body rose and took one trembling step forward before collapsing yet again. But this time Loki saw it: the eyes. The eyes were changing. The sickly black was fading into a midnight sky, dim and faded, but unmistakably there.

"I won't . . . let you . . . kill them . . ." she gasped.

"You are only taxing yourself by fighting me!" He screamed. "Now do as I say!"

"No . . ."

The Avatar suddenly convulsed, a hideous scream ripped from its throat. It would have been horrifying enough had it been Surtur's voice.

But this was Sigyn's scream . . .

_She was dying before his eyes_.

"**KILL THEM BEFORE I KILL YOU!**" HE bellowed, flinging her body away from them. The Avatar fell heavily and did not move.

"You will not kill her, Surtur!" Odin roared. "Not yet. Without her body you cannot return to Muspelheim to search for the Eternal Flame. You still need her."

"Indeed," HE agreed. The body was yanked to its feet like a poorly-made puppet, its eyes returned to solid black. "And I will use _every last drop_ of her strength until I am safely away from Asgard. My only regret is that you shall never see her last agonizing moments of life."

He roared with laughter . . . and something inside Loki snapped.

He could bear it no longer. Sigyn was fighting, failing, vanishing before his eyes.

_Winter threw itself against the Inferno._

He shut his eyes and his teeth, pouring everything he had into this one last effort. He had to reach her, to lend her his own strength to keep the fiend from winning. Gungnir's power enveloped him, nearly breaking him, joining his fight to keep Sigyn alive.

Surtur's spirit screamed in Loki's mind and pushed back. For a moment it felt as if it was all over, it was pointless, he was too powerful. His hold on the devil was slipping . . .

_Then he felt her._

It was as if she was reaching for him, her spirit weak and frail and fighting for survival. But she was fading fast. If he could not free her now, she would be lost forever.

He pushed harder. He could not lose her! Would not!

A withered hand clutched his wrist –

And he suddenly found himself flung aside. He lost hold of Gungnir. Odin caught up the scepter again. Surtur stumbled back.

Loki's eyes locked on the Fire Demon's own . . . and knew the battle was lost.

Blue and black fought for control, with every blink the opposite color emerged. Finally they stopped struggling. Black eyes searched the faces of the two men. A slow smirk, customary to the Trickster but foreign to his wife's visage, drew its mouth into a cruel line.

"This little body means so much to you then? Very well - take it back if you can!"

He flung them backward to the edge of the Bifrost. Eyes bled into blue as a black shadow fled, leaving her body to plunge into nothingness...

He lunged for her. Their fingertips touched –

She slipped from his grasp.


	8. Ashes

ASHES

_The blink of an eye. _

_A heartbeat. _

_An eternity could pass in the moment between moments._

_She fell._

_As he had once fallen._

_He saw their own life together now - the past few centuries tangled with fragments of some of the possible futures he had lived . . ._

_He had lived more lifetimes then he could remember now._

_He had gone through the torn fabric of the universe, had survived, been found . . . healed._

_There would be nothing so hopeful waiting for Sigyn._

_And he could do nothing but watch . . ._

_Then – _

_She was gone, a streak of fiery silver._

_His ears roared –_

Something heavy slammed into the Bifrost behind him with bone-shattering force.

Loki jerked his head around, heart in his throat –

It was Thor, curled up on his side, Mjolnir forgotten for the moment. There was something in his arms, but his cape was obscuring it from view. Almost as if he intended to hide it . . .

Thor opened his eyes, looked straight into Loki's own, as his burden was revealed.

Loki stumbled to his feet, his brother's thunder still ringing in his ears. His fingers closed on Sigyn's hand of its own accord.

There was a moment – a brief, tense moment – when the hands of both men were holding Sigyn. Ice and Sky locked in silent combat. Thor had not let go, did not seem willing to relinquish his prize, his latest claim to glory. But Loki would not lose what he had bargained and fought and wept for. Not to Thor. Not to _anyone_. And even as he wrenched her from Thor's grasp, he felt Thor release her, willingly, as if he was suddenly aware of what had just happened.

Loki took Sigyn in his arms, fear and hope fighting for control in his mind.

She did not move, did not react to the arms desperately searching for any sign of life.

Thor knelt beside him, Odin and Heimdal were watching from above, Sif and the others hanging back as if they felt they should not be there. There was nothing any of them could do.

Nothing _he_ could do . . . _nothing_ . . .

If he could have absorbed what was left of her soul into his own he would have done it, if it only meant he could have held onto her for a moment longer . . .

He tried calling for her, hoping his voice alone would bring her back. But he couldn't do it, couldn't bring himself to say her name. He could only cradle her against him while his mind tore itself to pieces in agonized silence.

_Please_, he begged, to anyone – _anything_ – that would listen, _please don't take her from me! Don't leave me alone . . ._

All he heard was the cold silence of an uncaring universe.

_Voices whisper in his ear, mocking him, black taunts, the knowledge that he will be condemned to continue through life alone, losing the one thing he now knew he could never survive without – _

_Loki . ._ .

Another memory, a mocking echo of what he wanted to hear. A voice, a whisper of empty promise –

"._ . . Loki . . . ?_"

-But this voice is real.

He felt the faint stir of air near his ear. It was a voice that he knew, but so weak and distant that it seemed only a dream. Fragile fingers tightened on his arm, strong enough to rekindle hope. But for a long moment – a lifetime – he didn't dare to move. Hardly dared to think, to hope, that maybe . . .

"Loki . . . ?"

Never before had a Midnight sky been a more welcome sight.

There was a collective sigh of relief.

"Well done," Odin murmured from above. "All of you. But there are cares and labors still to be done."

They were all looking at him; he could feel their eyes on his bowed back. He ignored them. His universe, in that moment, spanned no further than the woman he held in his arms. If he let go, even for a moment, he might lose her again. He had to keep her alive.

He poured every ounce of his magic and strength into her, willing her to take another breath.

_Stay with me, Sigyn_, he pleaded. _You promised you would stay with me. Please . ._ .

"Brother." Another hand closed on his arm; strong, firm . . . but just as familiar. "_Loki_, every moment lost brings Sigyn closer to death. We must. Go."

He was reaching for Sigyn. He would take her away from him again . . .

"I can fly her to the Healers House; there may still be time –"

He knew Thor was right. Sigyn had been restored to her mind, but her body had taken a great toll. It was just so hard to _let go_ . . .

The next moment or two were nothing but a blur to Loki. Sigyn was taken up into Thor's arms, Mjolnir roared, and they were gone. Loki found himself staring, watching as the red streak across the sky grew rapidly smaller, fading –

Alsvingdr was suddenly thundering across the Bifrost, racing back to Asgard, his rider leaving the others behind.

* * *

"If you keep retracing your steps, brother, you will wear a hole in the floor."

Loki ignored him, continuing to pace the room, eyes turned down. Sif cast uneasy looks between Thor and the man impatiently prowling in front of her. Fandral and Hogun were in the far corner, whispering to each other in low, worried voices, behaving as though they wished they could be anywhere but here. Inwardly, Thor shook his head. They were _all_ worried for Sigyn's life, but if Loki could not calm himself soon he would erupt.

His brother had arrived at the Healer's House long before anyone else, wearied and anxious. All attempts by the Healers to have his own wounds seen to were met with reckless refusal. Loki had been waiting when Thor emerged, demanding to know if Sigyn would live or die. He wished he could have given him an answer, wished he could have eased Loki's mind as well as his own.

But the look on Eir's face when Sigyn had been brought to her had been . . . less than promising.

That was two days ago.

There had been nothing they could do but wait . . . and hope.

Loki's cloak swirled restlessly around his feet as he retraced his steps across the floor.

"Brother, _please_ sit down," Thor insisted, louder this time, resting his arms on his knees. "You are making us _all_ anxious."

Violent green eyes flashed a glare in his direction, but again the request was dismissed. He turned his back on all of them, pacing to the window that faced the eastern sky.

"You must be proud of yourself," Loki hissed abruptly.

It was so sudden, so unexpected – so _hateful _– that Thor could only match that venomous gaze with innocent confusion.

"_Proud_, brother?" he whispered. "What have I to be proud of?"

Loki whirled round, fixing the God of Thunder with a black stare.

"The _Mighty_ Thor, _hero_ of Asgard, crushes the enemy and rescues the damsel in distress." Scorn and hate were infused in every syllable spilling from Loki's mouth. "What will the minstrels twist and praise this time, I wonder? Will they sing of your heroic battle with the Fire Demon of the lowest Realm? Or perhaps they will weave tales of how you flew through the skies on the wings of Thunder, snatching the woman from the jaws of death. Hail, the Mighty Thor!" Loki's eyes were mere slits as he presented Thor with a mocking bow.

He had no answer to that.

But Sif did.

"You think this a game? A _contest?_" she demanded angrily, rising to her feet. "Sigyn would have died on the Bifrost if Thor had not saved-"

"Sif!" Thor barked. He could see the eruption coming . . . and the Healer's House was no place for a battle. "Sit down," he ordered sternly.

There was a tense moment, when neither Sif nor Loki moved. But at last, Sif relented and stepped away. Loki's eyes followed her across the room before returning to glare into his brother's. There was hatred in that gaze. Hatred, jealousy . . . but Thor saw there was pain as well.

Loki was furious, not with Thor, but with himself. Loki had always believed he had to prove himself as Thor's equal, that he was better than the "favored" Son of Odin. He saw Thor's rescue of Sigyn not as a triumph – but as a failure. _Loki's_ failure. Even in a matter as important as this, when the life of his soul mate was in mortal danger . . . he believed he had failed to save her.

In that one moment, Thor knew what to say.

"Loki," Thor replied gently, "it was not _I _who saved Sigyn that day."

Loki's brow furrowed in confusion. Clearly, that was not the answer he had been expecting.

"You knew, even if the rest of us did not, that she was somewhere beneath the surface, fighting to survive. If you had not believed that – had tried so hard to reach her – she would have been destroyed as an enemy long ago. It was not I that battled for her soul on the Bifrost . . . and it was not my name she called upon her release –"

"Nor is it the name she calls now," a new voice interrupted. Everyone turned to find Eir standing in the doorway. Her silver eyes were fixed on Loki's. "You are needed."

Loki paused at the door, looking down on the master healer with something close to . . . pleading, in his eyes. The burning question on his lips remained unspoken – but he was asking for all of them.

Eir's expression softened . . . but only just.

"She will live."

An audible sigh slipped from all of them, and Thor saw Loki's shoulders sag with relief. Without another word he disappeared into the corridor beyond.

Eir was watching the retreating figure of the God of Mischief, a hard look in her eyes. For some reason, she did not share in the others' joy.

"Her life has been nothing but suffering since she befriended him," she muttered. "First in bringing about her first overshadowing, then in losing her child. And now this . . ." She paused. "That man will be the death of her."

"Have care how you speak," Thor warned sternly, rising to his feet. "Loki has never wished nor intended harm towards your charge. The choice she made to wed my brother was her choice alone – without compulsion or regret. And changeable though he may be, Loki will never see harm come to Sigyn. He has nearly died – more than once – in defending her. Therefore I will hear no slander against him or his love."

"Forgive me," the healer spoke after a moment's hesitation. "I spoke in the trouble of my own heart."

She did not say she regretted her harsh words. But Thor let it pass.

Heavy footfalls in the corridor beyond drew all eyes back to the door.

One of the palace guards stood on the threshold and, catching site of the Prince, knelt with respect.

"Your Highness, your father requests the presence of yourself and the Lady Sif in the throne room as soon as possible."

Thor nodded; he had been expecting as much for days now.

"Tell my father we will come as soon as we can," he ordered. The man nodded, paused, then cast an unsure gaze at the Head Healer standing just beside him.

"The Alfather wishes that Prince Loki and the Lady Sigyn also attend."

Eir's brow furrowed as she carefully considered the guard's words.

"Sigyn is young, and is recovering with remarkable speed. I do not see the harm in allowing her to obey the Alfather's commands. Only allow her to return here to my care as soon as possible."

The guard saluted, bowed to Thor, and returned carrying his answer to the Alfather.

Thor turned to Sif, and found her watching him with a grim expression.

"Wait here a moment for me," he asked. "I will not be long."

Sif cocked an elegant eyebrow at him. She knew as well as he did that convincing Loki to allow Sigyn to accompany them to the throne room would be no easy chore.

* * *

Was it merely three days ago that they had all gathered in this fashion?

So much had happened between then and now. Then, they had met in secret, hiding their fears and suspicions from Asgard . . . and hiding their accusations from the young woman they all loved dearly.

Odin's heart felt lighter this day when he saw Sigyn, arm in arm with Loki, walk up the steps of the dais.

She was pale. Tired. But the spark of innocence had returned to her eyes. Her stride was softer than usual, but her body was no longer the wasted, emaciated shell she had been.

It was more than he could ever have hoped for.

Thor was giving his report on his journey to Alfheim, but he was giving less than his usual enthusiasm on that exploit. He seemed troubled about something. And when he paused, and cast an uneasy glance at Sif, Odin decided he must learn the meaning of his son's hesitation.

"Your account makes it seem as if your journey did not take long at all," the Alfather pointed out. "Why then did you not return to Asgard immediately . . . as I had commanded you to do?"

His son shifted uncomfortably, almost as if he was ashamed . . .

"I felt I could not return to Asgard at once, Father," he confessed.

"Then what were you doing?"

A small, satisfied smile was spreading over Loki's mouth. Why he must always enjoy his brother's foolishness . . . ?

"We journeyed first to Muspelheim."

For once, Odin was utterly speechless with rage. Even Loki's mocking smirk seemed to slip for a moment.

The Queen spoke for all of them.

"Thor . . . why would you do something so rash – so _reckless?_" she demanded, scolding him not as Thor's mother but as the _Almother_. . . "You knew not when Surtur would return to his domain . . . and if he had done so and you were at hand –"

"Surtur was trying to rebuild his body!" Thor protested. "I felt that if that empty shell could be destroyed . . . then his spirit would have nowhere to return to when he fled Asgard."

"Oh, you foolish boy -!" Frigga turned away, but not before one angry, frightened tear had traced its way down her cheek.

"Even fools can provide useful," Odin interrupted, feeling his wrath cooled slightly. The prospect of learning some new information was far too tempting. "What did you find there, my son?"

There was a tense pause.

"Nothing."

Odin felt his brow furrow in confusion.

"Explain."

"There was nothing that we could see, Father," Thor amended. "It was not difficult to find the place where his soul has been dwelling these long years. But . . . we could not get close enough to see more. He had no need of guards; he had cast some strong magic over the whole of the temple. No use of force or counter-spell could have overcome it."

"Then you do not know how complete his mortal form is?" Thor slowly shook his head in disappointment.

"No, Father."

Odin's gaze moved to the young woman that sat beneath Loki's protective hand.

"Is there anything you can tell us Sigyn?"

She was silent for so long that Odin thought at first she had not heard him. But then her eyes came up and looked into his.

"Nothing that would be of any use, Alfather," she answered with a small shake of her head. "There is very little I can remember throughout the entire ordeal. In that, at least, I am glad." Though her voice was soft it was steady. There was no trace of grief, or fear, in those midnight eyes.

Sigyn was indeed, a woman of uncommon strength.

"It matters little," he assured her. "What does matter is that Surtur's efforts to destroy our people have been all for naught."

"He has been delayed, but not defeated," Thor pointed out, shifting his weight restlessly. "We must prepare for his return, Father. Now that we know his plans, he will strike soon-"

"No."

All eyes turned to Sigyn, who seemed to have spoken without meaning to. Her eyes were distant, faint lines of concentration furrowing her brow.

"He will not strike now," she murmured. "Not yet. There was . . ." But her voice faded into silence, troubled eyes finding her clasped hands in her lap.

"Speak," Odin called gently.

A shuddering breath slipped through pale lips.

"There was something . . . something he needed. Something he did not have before . . . a tool – or weapon – he has been lacking . . ." Again she fell silent, shaking her head with a frustrated sigh. "Whatever it is, he never revealed it to me."

"I doubt he would," the Alfather agreed. "You have been fortunate that he revealed as much as he did."

"He did not do so willingly," Sigyn whispered.

There was a moment of empty silence.

"It seems we have been granted a reprieve," Odin's gaze encompassed them all. "We have won a battle, but not the war. But Surtur has no means of returning unless his body has been rebuilt. And we know now that his endeavors toward that end have been delayed. The Flame is safe in Alfheim – the Light Elves will warn us of any impending danger. And he can never again use any Asgardian as his unwilling tool; I will see to that."

Loki's hand tightened on Sigyn's shoulder, but he said nothing.

Odin knew there was more beneath the surface than any of his children knew. He understood this enemy of Asgard better than any other could. And evil that strong could not be so easily overcome.

But there was no need for them to know that. Not yet.

"Let us enjoy this time of peace . . . while we can."

**Thanks everybody for you positive reviews...and patience! It took a while longer than I thought to get this chapter done and edited; for some reason I agonized over this chapter more than any other one. I hope it was worth the wait! Stay tuned: the epilogue for this story is coming soon! **


	9. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Night had once again fallen over Asgard.

Not so very long ago she had stood at this very window, gazing up at the stars, searching for peace of mind. The air had been filled with a nervous anticipation, the Eye restless and uneasy. Frigga's sleep had been troubled by dreams too vague and frightening to ignore, and she had longed for the Second Sight to be silenced, at least for a time. She had thought it would bring her peace.

But now, she wished it would speak to her again.

Though Asgard was enjoying its time of peace, untroubled by the affairs of the other realms, Frigga discovered she could feel no such peace. Her sleep was unbroken these many nights, her mind able to lose itself in forgetfulness for a few short hours. To anyone else, it would have been seen as a blessing. But Frigga's heart was far from easy.

She could feel the eyes of the Alfather watching her from across the room, worried for her but not wishing to interfere before she asked for it. As always, Odin's silence and presence alone was comforting enough to ease her mind, at least for a while.

"Frigga," he called softly, "come away from the window. "Asgard sleeps in safety tonight, and still you fret needlessly. Come away."

She turned to face him, found his arms open and beckoning for her. His expression was so gentle and concerned that she could not help but allow his gaze to pull her away from the open window. Within moments she was wrapped in his embrace.

"What troubles you, my queen?" he asked quietly after a moment or two. "You should rejoice. Asgard's annihilation has been repressed, Sigyn is well and whole, and Surtur can no longer invade this realm in that way again."

"I know this," she whispered. "And yet . . ." She hesitated, trying to put her feelings into words.

"Is it your concern over Sigyn, as she is with child once more?" he asked, his voice bearing a subtle note of worry. "Has the Eye shown you some new trouble?"

"No, my husband. If it were merely that, I could have borne it. When the Second Sight is upon me, at least my mind may rest easier, knowing some of the paths and threads that Fate is weaving together. But this . . ." She looked up at him, her eyes grim. "The Second Sight . . . has shown me nothing."

Odin watched her for a long moment before his own gaze turned away towards something she could not see. He knew as well as she did that, when the Eye was silent, the future was uncertain, and that enormous events would soon be shaping the fortunes of all. It had happened only once before, long, long ago, when Thor had been only a new infant. Then Laufey, King of Jotunheim, had launched a daring assault upon the helpless realm of Midgard, decimating that innocent race with such terrifying swiftness that the Alfather could hardly gather Asgard's full strength in time. The night before word reached them of the attack, the Eye had fallen silent and still. Frigga had since learned that when the Second Sight was still, it could only mean misfortune.

"That was many years ago, my love," Odin assured her, eyes drawn back to hers. "Misfortune fell then, but that does not mean that it will do so again. Asgard, for the moment, is safe, and the storm has been averted. In that, at least, let us be grateful."

But he could not see the tense, fearful expression that crossed her face.

He was wrong. She was certain of that.

The storm had not been averted . . .

_It was only just beginning._

TO BE CONCLUDED . . .

**STAY TUNED FOR PART III OF THIS SAGA: ****ASGARD'S TWILIGHT!**


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